CHAPTER 6 #2
Then there were the photos…
My Chinese was going sour in my belly. The fucker’s been watching us.
For a while. Us, and several others. I recognized a few of these young girls from various news reports I had to sift through just for my general occupation.
Some things just stick with you. The O’Dell’s were up to some dark shit.
Darker than murder, and so much worse. When I finally glanced up at the list of files from the flash drive, I wanted to puke.
Endless correspondence, plans for a franchised pleasure house, bank transfers, invoices…
and the holy grail itself—Jonas’s list of logins and passcodes for everything.
I tossed all the shit back onto the desk and grabbed my carton of sesame chicken, leaning back in my chair with frustration.
I’m not ready. And I’m about to take it out on this…
takeout. Har-Har. Dan cracked open his fortune cookie and raised another in his hand like he was asking permission to toss it to me.
I nodded, catching it when it flew between us.
He read his, and scoffed, rolling his eyes as he relaxed against the wall. Yet another sign that he’s got a past, and whatever it is…he’s far from stupid. I opened mine.
“Hey,” I snorted. “This tracks.” I leaned forward and passed him my fortune and as soon as he read it, pieces of cookie burst from his mouth at the laugh he couldn’t hold in. I followed suit.
Pass the bill to the guy on your left.
Dan handed me his, and I couldn’t contain myself…especially with the very thoughts I’d been having about him for the past hour. I cackled and gripped my stomach as my back slumped in the chair.
You are not illiterate.
It sucks that I have to ruin this moment of clarity between us, but the simple fact is…
I didn’t need a cookie to tell me that everything I’m allowing him to see right now could end up landing me in a boiling pot of horse shite.
The problem with my hasty generosity is that I never consider the consequences before I reach a hand out to help someone.
It’s just not who I am. I dug my fork into my carton and faced him.
“Alright, mate. The cookie has spoken. So, where’d ya do your best readin’?” He sucked a bit of sweet and sour sauce off the side of his dirty thumb and made a really brave attempt not to look at me for a few long seconds.
“Afghanistan.”
I knew it.
“I’m sorry, dude. That’s fuckin’ ridiculous.
You don’t have to tell me anything, I’ve seen it a lot.
Sucks I have to even say that.” My food tasted like bland cardboard after that.
I tossed the carton up onto the desk next to all Bridget’s shit.
“You can stay as long as you want, just try to be discreet. Obviously, there’s some sensitive—”
“You a spy?”
Well, that was forward. Ten points for Dumpster Dan.
I crossed an ankle over my knee. “Not quite. Why?”
Dan dipped his fried mystery meat into his sauce and gestured with it toward the screens before taking off a good-sized bite. “Not from here. Lots of toys. Wads of international cash. I’m a little outta practice, but if it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck…”
I grinned and adjusted my glasses, dropping my leg back down. “I only play spy where it concerns my lassie. She’s a little vault of secrets. I’m a hacker. Accent just wets knickers and adds to my charisma.” I winked.
“That’s bullshit. I’ve tried that. Didn’t get me food or pussy.”
My snort was loud. I really like this chap.
But it doesn’t mean I can trust him. I need him to drop some information I can use.
A last name. His branch of service. Anything.
But if he’s armed forces, I doubt he’ll be that sloppy.
That’s burned into their bones. Only thing left to do is to really test him.
I swiveled and glazed code after code over anything important.
By the time I was finished, Dan had laid himself down on the cot, surrounded by all his empty containers.
I know he’s tired. Exhausted in probably a thousand different ways, and it shows—but the one thing Dan didn’t mean to show me was the way he’s sleeping.
He’s not paranoid, doesn’t have one eye open in caution, nor did he hesitate with curling up and leaving his back open to me with that blanket I thought he’d forgotten about.
He trusts me.
I moved the heater closer, and left him a note that I’d be back to check in later today.
The sun was nearly up when I’d made it back to the building, and I dropped Bridget’s goodie bag back into her car, locking it before I took the elevator back up to our floor.
Most significant others would be filtering through every horrible scenario, wondering what kind of woman a lad like me would be dippin’ our cocks into if they spent a whole night pissed off and away from the house…
…What the hell kind of sad sod does it make me if I’m the one that just spent Valentine’s Day evening eating Chinese takeout with a homeless veteran after refusing a blowjob?
Sigh.