Burn Code

Seven

“I’m taking you out.” Paul stated without preamble when I opened the door.

Startled, I laughed. “What, you mean like a date?”

It was a few days after I told him about the man at the Malkestald. He likely thought I was getting cold feet and was about to back out on our deal.

“No, not like a date.” He shook his head, but the corners of his lips turned in a smile. “Like a business meeting.”

“Like a business meeting that just happens to be at a restaurant?”

He waited while I grabbed my coat. “Something like that.”

“Will there be alcoholic beverages at this business meeting?” I smirked.

He scratched his chin and tried not to laugh. “Maybe.”

While not a dive like Maggie’s, it wasn’t upscale either. He picked a place where most of our conversation would be drowned out by the noise from the bar.

We settled into the booth on opposite sides of the table. Glancing between the menu and the dining crowd, I caught a glimpse of the revelers cheering over a score from the holovised match. The sight gave me cause to smile until I saw the outline of a man in a three piece suit.

Removed from the rest of the game watchers, he sat at the far end of the bar and idly rocked a tumbler of dark liquid back and forth on the wood. His coat was unbuttoned, showing off the lean lines of his body as his other arm draped across the backrest of the stool.

“Damn!” I whispered and desperately tried to normalize my heart beat.

“What’s wrong?” Paul asked, looking up from his menu.

“He’s here.” I replied through my teeth and forced myself to look away.

“Who?” My expression must have triggered recognition because Paul’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“All right.” He chewed the inside of his lip. “Keep peripherals on him.”

“But if he realizes what you are—”

“One thing at a time.” Paul leaned towards me. “Did you make eye contact?”

“No.”

He nodded once. “Small mercies then. He might not realize you’re here.”

The same warning triggers flashed as when I was probed at Brændende Malkestald. “Oh, no, he knows. Unless he’s doing random crowd surfing, he knows.”

“Yeah, he’s over here too.” Paul rapidly blinked. “This is good. This is really good. Has to be military—”

As if someone flipped a switch, he slumped forward and his forehead hit the table with a thud.

“Paul!”

Reaching across the table, I gave his shoulder a shake. He was completely unresponsive. Tucking two fingers underneath his chin, I felt for a pulse — it was there but a little fast.

“Paul!” I scanned but I couldn’t find him even by the shared port.

“I could kill him if you wanted me to.” The lion spoke as he slipped into the booth next to me. His deep voice was thick with an accent I couldn’t place. “Just say the word.”

“Why would I want that?” I asked in barely a whisper.

“This is the man who laid in your bed for a year under false pretenses, arrested you then shackled your gifts.” The lion shrugged. “Do you not want revenge?”