‘Deep down, I don’t think I believed it. No-one can control themselves to that extent in a life-or-death situation. You don’t fly off the handle. You don’t throw caution to the wind. You keep things measured and tactical at all times, even when you were ambushed. It’s remarkable.’
‘Don’t heap too much praise on me,’ King said. ’Talk me up enough and I’ll wind up dead on my next assignment. Then you’ll look like an idiot.’
‘Touché.’
‘Speaking of my next assignment…’
‘Nothing yet,’ Lars said. ‘But be ready to go at any moment. That’s what you signed up for. That’s what we pay you for.’
‘I know.’
‘And be ready tomorrow morning. 0700. I’ll send a car to the hotel.’
‘For what?’
‘You’re getting a Silver Star for your work in Tijuana,’ Lars said.
King froze at the bar, ignoring the unruly patrons flowing in channels all around his seat. ‘What?’
‘Like I said, certain people were impressed.’
‘Silver Star…’ King muttered. ‘Unbelievable.’
‘Rest up. You’ll be meeting a few important gentlemen tomorrow.’
‘Got it.’
The other end of the line disconnected. King returned the phone to his pocket and passed a fifth ten-dollar note across the countertop as the bartender slid the fifth tequila shot in his direction.
‘Silver Star?’ a female voice chirped behind him. ‘Really?’
King pinched the shot glass between two fingers and craned his neck around. He eyed a slim brunette woman roughly the same age as himself, complete with the fresh-out-of-college look and the half-hearted professionalism of a Washington intern who had just finished their eight hours at the office and was in the process of cutting loose. Her suit jacket hung uneven across her shoulders and the top button of her shirt had been undone. If she’d been wearing a tie, it had been removed. She had seemingly frozen in place mid-stride, on the way back to a table in the far corner of the bar.
‘Can I help you with something?’ he said, a little curt, surprised by her tone.
‘You really think that’s the right way to try and pick up women?’
‘What?’
‘It’s obvious what you’re doing.’
‘Didn’t mean to offend.’
‘That’s disrespectful to our military, you know?’ the woman said. ‘Pretending to be a hero to try and ensnare naive young women.’
‘My bad,’ King said.
He realised he should have lowered the volume of his conversation with Lars, especially in a public place. There was little chance that he would tell the truth, so he opted to keep his mouth shut and wait for the woman to continue on her beeline across the room.
To his surprise, she didn’t move.
‘What do you do?’ she said, her eyes wandering over his frame. ‘You know — when you’re not being a total dick?’
King realised the plain long-sleeve shirt draped over his powerhouse frame only served to accentuate his physique. The life of a black operations soldier required a level of physical capability ordinarily reserved for elite athletes. He trained half to death every single day, but it drew attention. The right kind of attention.
‘I’m in construction.’
‘Really?’ the woman said, arching an eyebrow.
‘Whatever you say, I’m not going to tell the truth. I’m just a con artist, right?’
He wasn’t sure what it was, but something shifted in the air. Perhaps it was the unbridled confidence he exerted, or the disinterest he showed toward the woman’s apparent scorn, but she twisted ever so slightly in his direction. A subtle gesture, but a move that spelled everything he needed to know.
He turned to face her, too.
She was cute, after all.
‘That your table over there?’ King said, jerking a thumb ever so slightly in the direction she’d been headed.
She nodded. ‘I’m not inviting you over. Don’t even think about it.’
‘I didn’t expect you to. Who are the two guys?’
‘Colleagues.’
‘Journalism?’
She nodded again. ‘How’d you know that?’
‘Just a hunch. What’s your name?’
‘Savannah.’
‘Cute name.’
‘Don’t even try anything like that…’
‘Try what?’ he said, playing dumb.
She scoffed and stared at him. But she didn’t walk away.
‘Where are you from? Texas?’
She nodded again. ‘Dallas.’
‘Will your colleagues get mad if I offer you this?’ King said, lifting the shot glass into view between them, still full to the brim.
‘You’re crazy if you think I’m having that.’
He raised the shot to his lips and took a sip, draining a third of the golden liquid. ‘Unless I’m in the business of drugging myself, I think you’re safe. As much as you might like to think my night’s revolving around trying to pick you up, I’m really just here for a good time.’
‘And when you’re not here,’ Savannah said. ‘What do you do?’
‘I told you.’
‘Construction’s bullshit.’
‘I’m not talking about construction.’
‘I’m not talking about anything. I already told you that.’
‘I just thought you might be more interested in defending yourself.’
He shrugged. ‘I’m not insecure. When it comes down to it, I don’t care what you think about me. I can’t talk about what I do — it’s as simple as that.’
An inkling of realisation spread across her face as she realised he hadn’t been bullshitting earlier. ‘Silver Star?’
‘Something like that.’
‘You sure you can’t tell me about it?’
‘Not here, at least.’
Not anywhere, he thought. But she didn’t need to know that.
She scoffed again. ‘I’m not leaving with you. I’ve known you thirty seconds.’
King shrugged. ‘Okay. Lovely meeting you, Savannah.’
She hesitated, and he recognised the second notable change in the atmosphere. He had given her incentive to leave, and she hadn’t taken it. She was interested. The guarded demeanour and apparent offhandedness could only cover it up for so long.
‘How long are you in town for?’ she said, shifting back and forth from foot to foot.
‘Here’s the deal,’ he said. ‘You don’t seem awfully keen to head back to that table. My guess is that both those guys are overly forward about trying to impress their new colleague. Right?’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘It’s getting on your nerves?’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘You’re hanging around me right in front of them to try and annoy them,’ King said. ‘You’re hoping it’ll stop their advances.’
‘Yep.’
‘Then drink this,’ he said. ‘It’ll really piss them off.’
She stepped forward, drawing to a standing halt directly alongside King’s bar stool, integrating into the line of patrons waiting to be served. It was reaching peak hour and the countertop was jam-packed with tipsy Washingtonians looking to blow off some steam after a painful Friday in the workforce.
Savannah tipped the rest of the tequila back, touching a hand to her lips as the liquid snaked its way down her throat. She giggled and placed the empty shot glass in the space between them.
‘Another one?’ King said.
‘You made of money or something?’ she said.
He paused. ‘Actually, I don’t know. My boss is still sorting that out.’
She raised an eyebrow at the odd statement. ‘Kind of busy in here.’
King smiled. ‘Want to go somewhere quieter? My place has room service.’
3
It took just a moment alone with her to realise that Savannah kept herself in impeccable shape, her figure toned from some kind of workout routine that wasn’t entirely obvious upon first look, disguised by her oversized journalist attire.