“Yes, who’s this?”
The man cleared his throat. It was noisy in the background. A pub? Bar? Club?
“My name is Jeff Clarke. We spoke today about my missing son.” Fucking hell. Should I be ashamed of the fist pump I gave in response?
“Yes, I remember you, Mr Clarke. How can I help you?” Please fucking hire me. My life literally depends on it.
He paused again. “I, uh… can you meet with me, please? I’d like to discuss hiring you.”
Thank god I’d only had one beer.
“Of course. I’ll bring those references you wanted too. Where do you want to meet?” Five minutes later, with several printouts in my inner pocket, I headed out to my car. The evening was turning icy, so I wasn’t going to risk riding there.
My old crapheap of a car would just about make it. I’d been methodically letting the damn thing go to pieces, so I could scrap it when it did. I hoped it wasn’t too far gone.
I parked up outside the Holiday Inn, sighing at the crappy exterior. Couldn’t have been a fucking Hilton instead, eh? Not that I’d fit in at a nicer hotel anyway. I made my way into reception, and asked for directions to the bar. Following the advice, I found the busy little bar, and stepped down into the hideously-patterned carpeted area.
I cast my eyes around the place, finally seeing a hand wave at me. Sitting in a corner booth, he was facing me, so he’d spotted me first. Perfect. I cast a wary eye around the rest of the place, before I headed over.
“Mr Clarke?” I stepped up to the booth, and shook his hand, and he gestured to the seat across from him. As I turned to slide into the seat, I realised that it wasn’t empty. It was one of those padded bench booths, and there was already a person occupying the seat, although she’d squeezed across to make room. It was her. Jesus.
I took in the wide-eyed look on her face. Nerves? Fear? I smiled at her, hoping that I could stop her looking so afraid of me.
“Hi. I’m Adam Teller.” I held out my hand to her, holding my breath while I waited for her to take it. Her small hand slid into mine, as she sat up a little taller.
“Julie Kim.” Fuck me sideways. She was as tiny as she’d appeared, and I wanted her. Like I’d never wanted anything, or anyone else. I realised I should release her hand, and against every fucking ounce of my being, I did, watching her as she leaned back into her seat.
I glanced at them both. “Uh… is this okay?” I pointed at the bench seat which would put me right beside her, my thigh pressing against hers. You know, if I decided to be a complete bastard.
She nodded, twirling her hair as she watched me bend, and slide in beside her.
“So, you’re both interested in finding the same person?” She better not be the girlfriend of this Harvey guy. Not after what I’d found out today. I fought to keep my cool. His dad likely didn’t know, and telling him that would put Lenore in mind, and if that happened, that would bring Marco, and the Bennett fuckers, and my imminent death.
Mr Clarke nodded, but then gestured to Julie.
“Um… I was actually trying to find a friend of mine. A dear friend. Harvey was helping me look for her. And then he disappeared too.” I felt two things wash over me at that moment. Firstly, relief, that she wasn’t a loving girlfriend, desperate to find the man she loves, but the secondary feeling that washed over me was the strongest. Fear. Fear that this was going to complicate things. Fear that there was someone else the Bennetts had disposed of.
I realised then that they were both staring at me, so I cleared my throat, and reached into my pocket, pulling out the few printouts that Marco had supplied. References. One for the job I actually did for him, and three others he’d had Nige fake for me. My website also suddenly showed some amazing testimonials, something else that Nige had arranged.
“Uh… before I forget… the references you wanted.” I shoved them across the table to Mr Clarke. He nodded, taking a look at them, a cursory glance was all I’d expected, but he spent a few minutes scrutinising them, and then he passed them to Julie. I watched those small, elegant hands as she picked them up to read. Fucking gorgeous hands. I wanted them on me. So badly.
“I uh… I’ll grab a drink, anyone want a refill?”
Mr Clarke stole my moment to get away from her, standing up and declaring that he’d get them. And then I was alone. With her. I watched her as she read through the references, carefully folding them back up again. She pushed them back toward Mr Clarke’s side of the table.
“Is something wrong?” She asked finally, as she turned those dark eyes to mine. I took a breath.
“Sorry. I, uh… how do you guys know each other, then?” I carefully adjusted my position, trying to make my rapidly shrinking pants more comfortable. My knee brushed hers and she gasped.
“Shit, sorry. Uh… do you want me to sit somewhere else?” She shook her head slowly, her hair hiding her face for a moment.
“I actually met Mr Clarke today for the first time.” And she’d seen me, hadn’t she?
“Outside the burned out shop? I thought you looked familiar.”
She smiled. “I saw you at the café. You were wearing this jacket.” She pointed, and I wanted to grab her finger, slide my lips over it, and suck it. Jesus. I looked away from her, pretending I was checking for Mr Clarke. The bar was fairly busy, so he was waiting still.
“I actually found you intimidating.” Julie said, and I turned to stare at her.
“Me?” She smiled, nodding, and then a small frown crossed her face.
“Uh… the whole biker thing… it made me nervous.” Interesting.