The small pub had gotten crowded and noisy. It was time to get back to the hotel. She was looking for Shannon and the check when Fia’s father walked in. “Fia, your mother was wondering where you were, she was,” he said, approaching the table stiffly, his hands stuffed in his pants pockets. He reeked of cigarette smoke. “You should have come by.”
She nodded, looking up. He was never stern with her, not even when he was well in his cups, but ever since Ian, he had seemed emotionally distant from her. Even during her teen-year cycles, when she became his child again. She knew she had deeply disappointed him, though he had never actually come out and said it. “I was planning on coming by tomorrow, sometime. I have to be careful.” She glanced up to be sure Glen hadn’t returned. “I guess you heard I got stuck babysitting this other agent.”
“Your mother has extra rooms open now that they’ve gone home.” In her father’s world, the tourists were simply them or they. “You should have come to the house.”
He was a big, stocky man with inky dark hair and hooded eyes. He made her feel small. She nodded.
He was quiet for a second and then tapped the table, turning away, sticking his hand back in his pocket. “You should come tomorrow.”
She watched him walk through the crowd, wondering how long it had been since they’d had a conversation that didn’t involve him telling her something she should or shouldn’t be doing. Sighing, she glanced around again, looking for Glen, wondering where he was.
During their meal, he had mentioned how surprised he was that not a single person had approached their table. They wouldn’t officially begin their interviews until the following morning, but he had been hoping people would be talking freely to him. The poor soul had no idea….
Still not seeing him, Fia rose. She caught Tavia’s eye. The room was getting louder. Check—I better get him out of here before things get rowdy, she told Tavia.
I don’t know where that worthless colleen is now. Just pay up before you leave town. Better yet, find out who did this to Bobby and your fish and chips are on me. Tavia gave a wave of the bar towel that always seemed to be in her hand and pushed through the kitchen door.
Glen’s cell phone vibrated, humming and hopping across the tabletop. Unable to resist, Fia picked it up. The front screen said “Stacy.” She didn’t answer it, but she took it with her as she got up from the table.
Several people stopped Fia on her way toward the restrooms. Everyone had the same questions concerning Bobby’s death. How was this possible? Who could have done this? She, of course, had no answers yet and her job kept her from speculating aloud.
As she turned down the dark, narrow hall, she spotted Glen. Shannon had him backed up against the wall near the pay phone, breasts thrust up and forward, practically touching his chin.
“There you are,” Fia called. “Your fiancée called again.” She waggled the phone.
He looked guilty at once, which had been her intention, though now she didn’t know why. Why did she care if he cheated on his fiancée? Of course, if he was going to cheat on Stacy the hygienist, Shannon was not the person to do it with.
“Shannon, Tavia’s looking for you,” she said lightly, passing them. You know better. Leave the human alone.
Shannon didn’t move.
“She wants you now, Shannon.” Fia pushed open the ladies’ room door. Council members are watching, she warned. “We better head back, Glen,” she continued aloud. “I already took care of the check.”
When she came out of the bathroom, Glen was still standing next to the phone. As she approached him down the long hall, it struck her how handsome he was. No wonder Shannon was attracted to him.
“You call her back?” She walked past him and he followed.
“Uh, no.” Glen glanced down at the phone in his hand. He didn’t know why, but right now Stacy was the furthest thing from his mind. “I’ll, uh, call later.”
As they wove their way around the tables, through the noisy barroom, Glen got the impression they were being watched. But he knew that was to be expected. Small town. Big city FBI agents. He followed Fia out the door, into the warm, muggy, August air and took a deep breath.
“Wow,” he said, drawing his hand across his forehead. Out on the not-quite-level brick sidewalk, he realized just how off-balance he was, though he wasn’t entirely sure it was the beer. “Pretty strong brew.” He certainly didn’t feel drunk, but he didn’t sound stone-cold sober either.
Fia surprised him with a laugh. One that was deep. Sensual.
“Tavia’s a talented brewer.”
He glanced at Fia Kahill as they turned the corner, walking closely side by side on the sidewalk. The moon had risen, but still hung low on the horizon, bathing the treetops on the street in strange yellow light. He knew very well he hadn’t had that much to drink, but he felt odd. Slightly off.
Fia was as beautiful a woman as he had ever seen. He’d always liked redheads, but there was something different about her. Something tantalizing, that suggested she might be just a little bit dangerous. He hadn’t been interested in the brazen waitress beyond listening long enough to see if she had anything to say about Bobby McCathal’s death, but this Fia, she was in a completely different league. As much as he might like to deny it, he was
