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“Nice to meet you, Griffin,” she said, holding her hand out over the table.
Striker shook it.
“So…what els
e?”
There was a lot about Annie that reminded him of Aine, most of which he wouldn’t feel comfortable saying. She was very attractive—pretty face, killer body, smiled easily, and was funny in an intelligent way. Their conversation reminded him of the first time he and Aine met, and how their conversation had been equally playful.
“You’re choosing your words carefully.”
“You’re intuitive. So is she.”
Annie looked at her menu. “It’s obvious you love this woman very much.”
“Is that also intuition?”
“No. It’s more the look you get on your face when you’re thinking about her. Talking about her too.”
Once they ordered, their conversation shifted to talk about the Central Coast and didn’t work its way back to Aine, thankfully. He’d enjoyed the company for breakfast, though.
When the waitress asked about separate checks, Striker insisted on buying Annie’s breakfast.
“Thank you,” she said, handing him a business card. “I cut hair in town, so if you’re ever in need or want to have breakfast again, you know how to reach me.”
“Thanks,” he said, tucking the card in his wallet.
They parted ways when they left the restaurant. “It was nice to meet you, Annie,” he said, waving as he walked away.
“She’s a lucky woman, whoever she is.”
Striker remembered the woman he’d told his story to on the plane had said the very same words. He doubted Aine would agree. On the other hand, if his sister hadn’t died, he wouldn’t have found out about her disorder, and he and Aine would likely still be together. She didn’t know it, but she was lucky that she’d dodged a bullet.
Instead of going back to Harmony or Cambria after he checked out of the hotel, Striker drove into San Luis Obispo. He wasn’t hungry, didn’t feel like having a beer, and definitely wasn’t interested in shopping since all he ever noticed were things he thought Aine might like.
His phone vibrated in his pocket, and when he pulled it out, he saw Merrigan’s name on the screen.
“How are you, Fatale?” he answered, using the code name she rarely used anymore.
“Better than you are, or so I’ve heard.”
Striker scrubbed his face with his hand. “Listen, if you’re calling to lecture me about Aine, Ava beat you to it.”
“Actually, I was referring to the situation in Colombia. I heard your trip was wasted.”
“Not necessarily.” Striker looked around him to see if anyone was in earshot, and then took a seat on a bench near the edge of the river. “I haven’t briefed anyone on this yet, but my meeting with the ambassador was enlightening.”
“Is this a good time to talk?”
“Not particularly. Where are you?”
“Home, in Montecito.”
“Where’s Doc?”
“He’s here. Do you want to chat with him?”
“I could come down.”
