Page 52 of Roughing
“That describes it.”
“Does Carla like this crap?”
“Yes, she says cops are indoctrinated into the profession with cheap coffee and wouldn’t know good coffee if they tasted it.”
“I don’t think this swill deserves to be called coffee.”
“I know.” We both quieted when Carla ended her call.
“Kate will be here in about thirty. Can you two hang tight until then? I’d like you to go to the pub tonight and pick up on the gossip. They’ll surely be talking about one of their regulars going missing.”
“Absolutely.” I was thrilled she trusted me with such an assignment, though I wondered if Carla was just trying to get rid of me while she did the meat of the work.
A few hours later, Briggs and I took a seat at the bar of the pub and ordered beers and Guinness stew. Briggs wore an Icehawk baseball hat pulled down low and sunglasses in an attempt to not be recognized. He probably didn’t have to worry. The Icehawks were a new team with a losing record and hadn’t caught the attention of the average Portland sports fan. Only hard-core hockey fans would know who he was.
“You don’t need to wear that hat and sunglasses. You’re drawing attention to yourself because it’s obvious you’re hiding your identity, and people are curious.”
“Too much?” Mirth tipped up one side of his kissable mouth. In fact, I’d have done just that if we hadn’t been in a bar full of people. Not that I minded PDAs, but this relationship was new, and I was trying to take it slow.
“Way too much.”
Briggs sat his sunglasses and hat on the counter. I reached up and combed his unruly hair with my fingers. He had wonderful thick hair, and I loved touching it. Passion flared in his eyes. I didn’t need to look down to imagine the hard bulge in his jeans. I gave him a quick kiss on his cheek, followed by a smile. This was fun. Rather than pretending we weren’t together, being together was way more enjoyable.
Two girls at the end of the bar caught my attention with their giggling. Their eyes were on Briggs. I shot daggers in their direction, but neither was daunted by my perceived threat. I slid my barstool closer until our thighs touched in an effort to clearly stake my claim.
Briggs glanced down at me with a puzzled smile. His gaze bounced from me to the girls and back. “A little jealous?”
“Not at all, but we agreed to exclusivity, and I’m making sure those two understand the lay of the land.”
“How’re you going to do that when I’m on the road?”
“I don’t know.”
“I love that you’re staking your claim, but you don’t have to worry about me. I haven’t been interested in another woman since I first laid eyes on you months ago.”
This was news to me. Considering we’d only been fuck buddies, I’d assumed he had his dalliances with others. His admission flattered me, giving me a warm, gooey feeling and making me grin.
“I haven’t either,” I admitted, though I wasn’t sure if that had more to do with me not wanting to get involved with multiple men or if Briggs had really been the only guy who interested me.
“Hey, Mike, did you hear about Symone?” the older man next to Briggs asked the bartender, a short, bearded man who whipped up drinks at light speed.
“Everyone’s talking about her,” the bartender, Mike, said.
“What a shame. She was such a nice girl. I don’t think they’ll find her alive.”
“Neither do I. The Rose City Killer got her.”
“That’s what I think.”
“You two know the missing woman?” Michella inserted herself into the conversation. Being men, they appreciated a good-looking woman and had no problem including her.
“She was a regular here,” Mike said.
“Yes, she came in several nights a week.”
“Was she here the night she disappeared?” I had to walk a fine line between getting information and not coming across as anything but a curious bar patron.
“She was. Sitting on the very stool you’re seated on.” Mike pointed at my seat to punctuate his words.
