Eureka

18

The surrounding downtown area is so charming, picturesque, and sweet it can nearly make one sick. I love it either way and am determined to scope out the types of properties and make note of any houses for sale or rent. I busy myself making appointments to view the various apartments that I came across earlier in the day as I wander slowly up the narrow sidewalk. 

My nose wrinkles at the heavy smell of patchouli spilling out from a store selling beaded jewelry, crystals, and what appear to be crochet bikini tops. Alarmed, I speed up my steps in the hopes of dodging the perky middle aged woman who works there, remembering her from earlier in the day. Millie's warning very present in my mind. She is a very friendly woman, but will apparently talk for hours if no one distracts her. 

Millie had us cross to the opposite side of the street to avoid coming close to her shop. The woman had still waved and yelled out a friendly greeting to Millie when she noticed us. She couldn't abandon her shop, but still attempted small talk from the doorway. A van parked in front of her and blocked her view of us, allowing us to finally slink away.

Narrowly avoiding the potential of being small talked to death, I make it to the top of the slight incline in the road. I find myself standing in front of an adorable café just down the street from where I work. Lunch sounds good to me and the timing is perfect, especially since Vic should be in town soon.

The little bell above the door chimes to announce my presence. Many of the people in the café turn to look at me. Some of them smile and wave, knowing me already from my short time at the bar. There is a group of guys in leather vests in the corner booth, some looking my way. They soon turn back to their conversations. Curious, I make my way over to a table by the window that is just close enough that I could listen in if I wanted, but far enough away that it's not obvious.

I get a look at their club name, The Fallen. Huh, I'll have Vic look them up.

Depending on their type of work in the community, I bet I can curate a deal between the club and The Family. It's like a symbiotic relationship. I'd have the protection and loyalty of the club, should I need it, and they would have their very own personal hit person. Me. 

The Family would likely get a cut of their profits from whatever dealings they have when I'm involved. The club would pretty much just get a discounted rate to guarantee my services, my protection from other factions, they'd just have to offer support where I need it. It's a deal we strike often when nomad agents have to settle for a period of time to get Federal or international law groups off their backs.

As I ponder over the idea of working with a motorcycle club, I order a sandwich and some water. While I wait for the young waiter to bring me my water, my phone goes off. I see it's Vic calling and I force myself to suppress the excited squeal that was working its way up my throat. I clear my throat before swiping to answer his call.

"This is Scarlett."

"I'm here in town," Vic's low voice rumbles through the phone causing my stomach to flutter with excitement. I haven't talked with him in person since before I settled in Houston. It doesn't help that our communications were often limited to job related information due to the fact that I had a live in boyfriend that was paranoid when another man's name flashed across my phone. The irony, I know.

It is all I can do to resist plastering my face to the window near me to watch for Victor. A broad smile stretches across my face as I anticipate seeing someone familiar, someone from home.

"I'm in a little café down the street from my work place. I can text you the address, but it has a light blue awning. I'm sure you'll find it easily enough," I tell him. 

"See you soon, Red." He hangs up and I smile at the nickname he has used for me since we were kids in training together. He used it so much that it only made sense that it became my code name when he became my handler.

I set my phone in my lap and glance around the restaurant. I notice one of the bikers at the other table is staring at me. I don't feel like he's trying to intimidate me, but I stare back. I want to see if he'd blink first, and wait him out for a moment before growing antsy. I don't usually want to back down from the staring contest, but I decide to watch out the window for Victor instead. So, I send the biker a wink. He blinks, surprised. I feel like that would mean I win by technicalities. I see the corner of his mouth twitch up to a smirk for a fleeting moment. He looks away and listens to the conversation his companions are having.

Weird moment over, the server comes back to deliver my water. After he scurries away I turn my attention back to the window while listening in as the bikers discuss a shipment. I hear one voice that I recognize. Noah. I realize now that he is one of the ones with their backs facing me. Trying not to be obvious about it, I watch the group from the corner of my eye.

My attention is drawn to the man who was looking at me earlier. He has long dark brown hair pulled back into a high man-bun. I freakin' love me a man-bun. His skin is tanned from spending a lot of time in the sun. He is buff, I can tell that from the way his navy shirt clings to his biceps.

I wonder briefly if he's the kind of beefy guy that skips leg day, but I doubt that. He's a biker. Duh. They tend to have pretty strong legs. 

From what I can tell from where I'm sitting it looks like the man has lighter eyes, probably blue, possibly grey. There is a large scar that runs down from his cheekbone to his jaw on his right cheek. I can't read his name and job patch from this distance. Bummer. His broody demeanor means he is probably not one to get the fun jobs. He seems to give short responses to his comrades, rarely engaging more than that.

As if he can sense my eyes on him again, he tenses up. I quickly look out the window to watch for Victor and successfully avoid him catching me staring at him. I can see his head turn my way out of my peripheral vision. I bite my lip to keep from smiling at the odd staring game we've apparently started.

I spot the man I'm waiting for strolling casually down the street with one hand in his pocket, and the other scrolling through his phone. Victor is tall, slim while still fit, and has his blonde hair slicked back in a casual way but still looks very posh and proper on him. He glances up at the café and sees me in the window. His bright green eyes light up with recognition and his mouth curves into a sly grin.