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“God, yes.” They were only a few blocks from the waterfront, the bay intensely blue, the Bay Bridge to the right arching over it to Oakland. The bay was filled with ferries and sailboats. He took in a deep breath, the air smelling like the sea. “Reminds me of home.”
“Yeah? Where’s home?”
“Right now, Portland. But I grew up in San Diego. My family made it across the border over forty years ago and have stayed on the west coast. Mostly in San Diego. I’ve got a cousin here in San Francisco but he and his family are away on a sabbatical, and another little cluster of cousins in Portland. I wouldn’t want to settle where there isn’t at least a smattering of family.”
She smiled and shook her head.
“What?”
“It – it just sounds weird to have a choice of places where there’s family.”
“Where’s yours?”
Her face closed up. She glanced behind her. “The 7 is coming now. Let’s hurry.”
Raul was glad the heels weren’t stilettos because hurrying on stilts was not possible. Her shoes were very pretty and showed off the blue toes but the heels were reasonable. He took her arm and they rushed across the street just as an ancient tram rattled to a stop.
“Come on!” Emma’s face lit up as they climbed the ancient steps into the tram. “This is my favorite! See?” She pointed to a placard at the front, above the driver. “Milan. 1933. Isn’t that cool?”
It was. The seats were hard slats of wood and the tram rattled and shook but it was also charming as they powered their way to the end of Market Street and turned left along the bay.
Emma had entered first and sat by the window that looked out over the bay, and Raul sat next to her. The old-fashioned tram clanged along. It was too loud to talk easily so they watched the scenery go by. The farther along they made it toward Fisherman’s Wharf, the more passengers disembarked, until they had the tram almost to themselves.
Emma turned her head to smile up at him. “Beats an Uber, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah.” He smiled right back at her, loving every second of this. The beautiful woman sitting close by him, the glorious evening colors of the bay, the ancient tram that had carried passengers in Europe and here and had done so for almost a hundred years. He’d never been in a mode of transport that was almost a hundred years old. Except maybe Tio Alberto’s ancient Chevy, which only seemed as if it were a hundred years old.
For a brief moment, he allowed himself pure unadulterated enjoyment. He was on the clock, it was true. But there wasn’t any danger right this very minute and Emma couldn’t be debriefed right now, so the only thing he could do was relax and enjoy the ride. And he was. The windows were divided into two, horizontally, and the top sections were open so the sea air flowed in, mixing with the scent of Emma’s perfume. Something light and floral and delightful.
Raul had spent the past week training future Black Inc operators in desert operations out in Utah. They hadn’t washed for a week and sleeping in the tents was an assault on the senses between the sweat and the farts and the occasional guy jerking off.
Sitting next to Emma, on this charming rattling tram, rounding one of the most beautiful bays in the world … well, that was pure pleasure, and he hadn’t had much of that lately.
Emma leaned in close, so close her lips were next to his neck. “Next stop is end of the line.”
He turned so their faces almost met, and nodded. Her eyes widened, the pupils dilating slightly. A pulse throbbed in her temple. Yeah, she was as affected by this as he was.
Good to know that he wasn’t alone in this, whatever this was. It was attraction, sure, but intense. Painfully intense. He felt like in one of those movies where the camera zooms in so the only thing you see is someone’s face. Emma’s gorgeous face seemed to fill his entire field of vision, a cornucopia of colors. That creamy skin, bright blue eyes, red red mouth and red red hair … for a second he couldn’t breathe.
Then the tram rattled to a stop with a noisy wheeze of brakes and the world righted itself. Thank God Emma hadn’t noticed anything. She was standing up, waiting for him to get up. He scrambled to his feet, a little shaken.
This had happened to him already a couple of times with Emma. For a moment there, he’d sort of forgotten about the world. Heneverdid that. The world was always present to him. Not just because he was a former soldier and still worked in security, and had had awareness of danger beaten into him. But, also, because he liked the input his senses gave him. Even in battle zones, even in the shitholes of the world, he liked being able to smell his surroundings, to orient himself by the sun, to judge his surroundings by the play of light and shadows.
He was in what was considered one of the most beautiful cities in the world, San Francisco, and he’d lost it, for a second. Never even noticed his surroundings. Lost his situational awareness. Luckily, he and Emma weren’t in immediate danger, but there was definitely something going on in her life and he was here to make sure it didn’t threaten her.
And for a moment, he’d forgotten that.
So, from now on, Emma Holland was to be enjoyed, but without it wiping his mind out.Hear that, Martinez?
Raul descended the steps first. The old-fashioned tram was high and the steps were steep. He held onto Emma’s hand as she descended. He didn’t need to. She was nimble and lithe, but he wanted to.
Normally, Raul didn’t like holding hands or walking arm in arm with a date – though this wasn’t a date – because he liked keeping his hands free. But right now, there wasn’t a downside to it. The waterfront was crowded, but not too crowded, with happy, sunburned tourists, out to have a good time. Not an operator to be seen, everyone loose and careless, most overweight and badly dressed and happy. Completely absorbed in themselves.
No one paid them any attention at all, which was exactly the way he liked it.
“Where to?” They were standing in the middle of the stream of tourists, flowing around them like water around a boulder.
“There. That direction.” Emma nodded with her chin toward the huge red bridge that actually looked as golden as its name in the sunset.
