Cold Blooded

Nick disconnected. That went well.

* * * *

Nick stood up from his table in the Marriott hotel bar. Rachel spotted him and walked over. She self-consciously smoothed her black scoop-neck dress with gathered bodice.

The hem ended inches above her knees. Her blonde hair, no longer tied back, lay loosely past her shoulders. At six feet tall, Nick was only a couple inches taller than Rachel in her black high-heels.

“Hi,” Nick greeted her with a smile. “You look nervous.”

“Good, because I am,” Rachel conceded, sitting down in the chair Nick pulled out for her. “On the other hand, you look like you do this all the time…I mean, date nearly complete strangers.”

“Hardly,” Nick replied, sitting opposite Rachel as a waitress came over. “Would you like something to drink? I held off on ordering.”

“Long Island Iced Tea, please,” Rachel told the waitress.

“Dos Equis dark,” Nick ordered.

“I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

Nick grinned. “A Long Island, huh? You must be nervous.”

“I already copped to that, smartass.” Rachel giggled. “Look, I know this is weird, but two of my friends who are really big fans of yours are stopping by for a drink with us. Will that be okay? If not, I can -”

“I don’t mind,” Nick cut in gently.

“I…I think my friend Grace is bringing along one of your novels for you to sign.”

“Okay. One book signing coming right up.”

“You’re upset, aren’t you?”

“Nope, if I was I’d already be on my way out the door. I’m not much on hiding my feelings. You look stunning.”

“Thank you.” Rachel glanced away, her face reddening under Nick’s gaze. The waitress arrived and set the drinks down on the table with their tab.

“I thought we’d have dinner here, too, if I don’t scare you away during our ‘have a drink together’ tryout.” Nick liked Rachel more with each passing moment. “I didn’t bring anything with me other than slacks, jeans, and a few pullover shirts, so I’m reluctant to go anywhere fancier.”

“I’m overdressed is what you’re saying?”

“No.” Nick laughed at Rachel’s dig. He saw Tim and Grace entering the restaurant bar. “I was trying to explain why I only wore slacks and a shirt.”

Grace appeared to be a couple inches shorter than Rachel in Nick’s peripheral vision, while he thought Tim looked a little taller than he was. Noticing the grim look he was getting from the agents Nick wondered if they found out more than they should have. Grace carried a hardbound book in her hand. She wore a blue sleeveless dress, so Nick figured it couldn’t be too bad. Tim wore black slacks and a brown pullover shirt. Their appearance startled Rachel, who had been in the middle of telling Nick there weren’t really any dress codes anywhere in the area.

“Hi.” Rachel greeted Grace and Tim, moving over into the chair next to Nick. “Grace, Tim, this is Nick McCarty. Nick, this is Grace Stanwick and Tim Reinhold.”

“Happy to meet you.” Nick stood and shook hands with each of them before gesturing at the empty chairs. “Please join us. I see you have Cold Terror with you, Grace. Would you like me to sign it for you?”

“Uh…sure, if you don’t mind.” Grace glanced down at the book in her hand as if having forgotten she’d brought it along and then handed it to Nick. “I was wondering if we might borrow Kim for a moment.”

“Huh?” Rachel looked up in surprise at Grace.

“Just take a moment,” Grace urged.

“I’m sorry, Nick. We’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be here.” Nick unclipped the pen from the book jacket. While watching the three walk away he signed it to my friend Grace with his signature.

* * * *

“Hey, thanks a lot,” Rachel hissed at Grace as they entered the lobby area side by side with Tim bringing up the rear. “As if this date isn’t strange enough.”

“We found out a few disturbing items of interest about Nick.” Grace handed Rachel a folded sheet of paper she took from her purse.

Rachel unfolded the paper with ill-disguised irritation which quickly turned to shock.

“You can see why we’re a little concerned about Nick,” Tim added as Rachel continued reading.

“Okay.” Rachel handed the paper back to Grace. “Nick’s a little more than a writer. He’s a war hero, travels a lot and I saw your note about his file being blocked from 1998 on. Apparently, when he writes about violent people, Nick probably has some real life experience. I’m surprised, but I don’t see anything on the paper to make me think he’s a danger to me. According to your info, he’s owned a house in Pacific Grove since hitting it big as a novelist in 1998. Maybe that has something to do with his file being vague since then.”

“Restricted access doesn’t mean vague,” Tim pointed out.

“Look, Kimmy, we don’t think Nick’s here to kill you. Hell, he wouldn’t invite you out on a date so he could pop you…at least in the bullet type sense,” Grace explained. “We wanted you to know there’s more unexplained stuff about the guy than there are facts.”

“Well, this puts a new kink in the first date deal.” Rachel sighed. “There’s nothing like having my own personal investigation staff running info on potential suitors.”

“See, Tim, it’s not registering.” Grace told her partner with a knowing look. “Kimmy’s panties are wet already thinking about danger boy in there.”

“Grace!” Rachel shoved the now laughing agent against Tim, who steadied her while shaking his head in commiseration with Rachel.

“Sorry…did…did I say that out loud?”

“I need to finish my drink.” Rachel walked toward the bar. “Thanks for the report. Feel free to leave the moment you get your book back, bitch.”

“I’m having a Margarita no matter how offended your sensibilities are.” Grace yanked Tim along with her.

* * * *

Nick watched the trio’s return with some concern. Rachel was at least a few paces in front of the agents as if she were trying to outdistance them. He stood up and pulled the chair out next to him. Rachel smiled at him crookedly and sat down, taking a gulp of her drink. Nick handed the book to Grace. The waitress came over right after the Marshalls sat down.

“I’ll have a Margarita.”

“Make it two,” Tim added.

“So, Nick, where do you get your material for the novels? They’re so realistic. Diego always knows exactly what should be done at every instant and he’s so matter of fact about it. Doesn’t your agent or editor complain about him not having any real conflict?”

“Not bad, Grace.” Nick smiled, as their waitress returned with the Margaritas. “You must know a little about the publishing business. That was one of the hurdles I had to overcome. They liked the writing but complained how one dimensional it was. I explained one of the traits a world class assassin would have is the skill to foresee every possible scenario on a job. It would be idiotic to have him stumbling from one situation to another as if he were Peter Sellers in a ‘Pink Panther’ movie.”

“The details do sell the character,” Tim piped in. “When Grace loaned me Diego’s Way, I figured it would be one of those thrillers with James Bond type action. Instead, it read as if an assassin kept a diary with every gruesome detail. A third of the way through the book I’m rooting for Diego to pull off the hit, collect the money, and return to his place in Venice.”