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He had to find a barstool to plant his ass on and get a drink in his hand—now. Before these dark musings dragged him even lower.
He glanced over his shoulder and spotted the same guy he’d seen back in the hotel a few paces behind him. Okay, maybe the poor bastard was in the same situation Slade was and needed to find a place to drown some memories. But a minute later when he looked again, the guy had gained on him.
Taking out his phone, Slade brought it up and snapped a selfie, making sure to get the man in the photo. He might just be paranoid, but he was never reckless enough to ignore who was around him.
Up ahead, Slade spotted the pub just where he remembered it sitting between two similar bleak buildings. The people he saw now weren’t wearing tourist garb and sunhats. They werereal.
Just the way I like them,he thought as he entered the dim bar.
The place was packed and smelled like sweat, liquor and an underlying note of desperation. He’d learned what that smell was after his first op. His team had lost four men total that night, and the funk of desperation clung to all of them as they battled their way to safety.
He shouldered up to the bar, removing his sunglasses as he sank to a stool. “Mezcal,” he told the bartender. The dirty tequila with the worm.When in Rome…
Just then, he felt a shift in atmosphere. The air sucked at him, pulling his head around to the right. Over one shoulder he caught a flash of movement just as the heavy glass came down on his head.
Slade leaped off the stool, his glass in hand, and whirled, already in a fighting stance. Three men came at him all at once, and two more jumped him from behind. By the time they hauled Slade out of there, he was bruised, bloody…
And nowhere near finished with this fight.
* * * * *
With a shaking hand, Lena removed the little plastic test stick from the packaging. She balanced it on the toilet paper holder and read the back of the box for the fifth time.
Remove the test stick from the wrapper and take off the cap…
She never needed to read something more than once, or hear it either. That was what made her so valuable to Blackout.
Maybe not valuable for much longer.
Of course. One night with Slade and the man knocks me up.
Calm down. You don’t know if you’re knocked up.
Typical. He always messes up my life.
Ughhh. It was her fault too. She should have been stronger, resisted his gorgeous body and his dirty talk and his thick, perfect cock.
She should have thought about using a condom.
Someone beat on the bathroom door.
Lena gritted her teeth.“Ocupado!”she called in Spanish.
“Meeting in two, Graham!” came the male voice of her teammate.
“Gimme a damn break, would you?” she snapped back.
“What’s taking so long? Is it that time of the month?”
“YES!”she roared.
The knocking stopped. Whoever her tormentor was retreated, leaving Lena alone with her own muddled thoughts and a pregnancy test.
She peed on it. Then she placed it on some folded squares of toilet paper and set a timer on her phone for three minutes.
What could she do in three minutes? Pray? Cry? Scream in rage?
Call Slade and tell him he should start building a college fund?
