Delighted, she nudged him toward the table. “They’re really good!” She locked eyes with Xander and thought: Oh yeah, I’m with the leader of the band.
After laying a hand on Jenny’s shoulder, she leaned down. “We’re a little later than we planned. I’m going to the bar for a round. Are you guys ready for another?”
“We could be.”
She gave the shoulder a squeeze, started toward the bar. Because she wanted to connect with Loo, she aimed for the middle, idly scanning as she went.
She saw a man at the far end, bill of a ball cap pulled low, head down toward the nearly empty beer glass in front of him. And felt him watching her.
He rubbed his fingers up the bridge of his nose, shouldered away from her. Something shivered up her spine like a warning. Despite it, or maybe because of it, she changed directions, started toward the other end of the bar.
“Hey, Naomi!” Krista popped up from her table, grabbing Naomi into a hug. “We sold the print of Xander with the dog. Ten minutes before closing.”
“That’s great.”
“We need more!”
“I’ll get you more.”
“Can we have a sit-down next week, talk about it?”
“Sure. Email me. We’ll set it up.”
She broke away in time to see the man in the cap walking casually toward the exit.
Nothing, she told herself. Probably nothing. Changing directions again, she walked up to the bar and Loo.
“Guy walking out was giving you the eye,” Loo said before Naomi could speak.
“I saw that. He was sitting alone, end of the bar.”
“Didn’t like the look of him.”
“Why?”
Loo shrugged, continued to mix a dirty martini. “Warmed that seat nearly two hours, nursed one beer—and had his eye on the door half the time. Kept his head down, wouldn’t look you in the eye.” She shrugged again, added a spear of two fat olives to the glass. “But he watched you, all the way to the table.”
“I couldn’t get a good look at him. Did you?”
“Not much of one. Suz! Order’s up! Kept his head down, like I said. Early thirties, I’d say, looked like brown hair under that cap. Long, skinny fingers. Couldn’t keep them off his face. Nervous like, if you ask me.”
She pulled the next ticket, set two beer mugs under taps, drew them both at once.
“Or maybe it’s me who has the jitters, between one thing and the other.”
“Are we all right? You and me?”
“No reason for us not to be. Terry! You’re up. Are you here to chat or drink?” she asked Naomi.
“Both, I guess. A round for the table. Kevin’s beer, Jenny’s wine, and I’ll have the same. A Corona with lime for my brother. I’m so sorry, Loo.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry about. If you want to talk, we’ll talk when I don’t have to yell back at you. My boy up there loves you. Anything else is just noise.”
“I’m really going to try not to screw it up.”
On a bark of laughter, Loo set the two glasses of wine on a tray. “Aren’t you the positive thinker?”
“That’s pretty positive for me.”
She carried the tray to the table, served the drinks. Suz breezed by, grabbed the tray, kept breezing.
“Jenny says they’ve got a CD.” Mason hefted his bottle. “I’m going to buy it. You know the uncles are going to love this.” He drank some beer, sighed. “Thought you’d never get back with this.”
“They’re busy, and I was talking with Loo. There was this guy . . .”
Immediately Mason set down his beer. “What guy?”
“Just a guy at the bar. We both felt he was watching me.”
“Where?”
“He left.”
“Did you get a good look at him?”
“No. Mason—”
“Did she?”
“Not really.”
He got up, left his beer, and headed toward the bar.
“Hey! I was going to talk him into dancing with me.”
“He’ll be back—and he can dance.” Wishing she’d said nothing, Naomi picked up her wine.
When Mason came back, he leaned in close and spoke directly in her ear. “She says early thirties, white, short brown hair, average to slim build, about five-ten.”
“Yeah, that’s what I’d say. And I can pick out twenty more guys in here that more or less fit that.”
“But you had a feeling, both of you. Feelings count. I’m going to have someone work with you tomorrow.”
“Mason.”
“People see more than they think they do, especially observant people. It can’t hurt.”
“Okay, okay. Now dance with Jenny. She wants to dance, and Kevin has to be cattle-prodded onto the dance floor.”
“I could dance.” He took another swig of beer, then got up to grab Jenny.
With Kevin grinning after them, Naomi turned her attention back to the stage. Xander watched her—and that gave her a feeling she could live with.
—
Pleasantly tired, absolutely relaxed, Naomi settled into Xander’s truck.
Ky leaned in the window. “Sure you don’t want a postgig brew, man?”
“I’m on call, as of ten minutes ago.”
Ky shook his head. “One beer isn’t going to impair you, son.”
“One beer could cost me my license. I’ll catch up with you guys later.”
“You shouldn’t feel like you can’t decompress because I’m here,” Naomi began.
“We go that same round after nearly every gig when I’m on call. Plus, I’m ready to head home.”
“I bet the dog’s more than ready to get out.”
“And there’s that. And there’s another way to decompress.”
She smiled. “Is that so?”
“I’ll show you.”
After the dog went out, made his rounds, and settled down for the night, he showed her why home and bed was a much better idea than a beer.
—
When his phone went off at four fifteen, Xander sincerely wished he’d stuck Jimmy (first night in his new apartment, and with a female companion) on the graveyard shift.
“Shit, fuck, shit.” He grabbed the phone, stared blearily at the readout. “Keaton’s. Uh-huh. Right. Okay, got it. About fifteen minutes.”
“You have to go.”
“Dead battery—probably. Between here and town, so I’ll check it, jump it if that’s it, and be back in a half hour.”
“You want coffee?” she mumbled.
“Like I want to breathe, but I’ll get it. Go back to sleep.”
“Don’t tell me twice,” she managed, and did just that.
Even the dog didn’t get up. Xander saw Tag’s eyes gleam as he pulled on clothes, but the dog didn’t stir or follow him down to grab that coffee before he headed out.
He used a travel mug, downing the coffee as he walked out to his truck.
Thirty, forty minutes, he thought as he gave the house one last long look. He’d be back. The doors were locked, the alarm set, the dog right there.
She’d be fine.
Still, he wished he’d dumped the shift on Jimmy. He knew about the guy at the bar—had noted him himself. The way he sat alone, head down, the way he’d kept a bead on Naomi when she’d come in.
Then again, he’d noted a guy sitting alone at a table, one who fit the basic nondescription, and who’d given Naomi a long study when she’d walked through the bar.
Until a woman had come in, hurried over, and snuggled up with him.
This murdering bastard didn’t break into houses anyway, he reminded himself. But he flicked a glance in the rearview as he drove away.
“2013 Ford Escape towing a 2006 Fun Finder RV,” he muttered. “Can’t miss that.”
He slowed rounding the turn, and indeed couldn’t miss it. SUV and camper both sat on the shoulder, emergency flashers blinking.
Xander slid in, nose to nose, and watched the man get out of the driver’s seat.
Another reason he hadn’t dumped on Jimmy. The murdering bastard liked hunting on Friday nights. Women, but why take chances?
The man lifted his hands, waving one, blinking against the headlights. Then he turned back to the SUV and spoke to someone inside as Xander got out.
“Keaton’s?”
“That’s right.”
“Mike Rhoder. You were really quick. It just won’t start. I got my kid in the back, and we were heading to Olympia to camp for the weekend. I just pulled over—he had to pee—and it wouldn’t start back up. Just clicks. No, we’re not there yet, Bobby.” He rolled his eyes. “Just go back to sleep.”
Xander hit his own flashers. “Go on and pop the hood. I’ll take a look.”