Page 42 of Stealth Mission

“It’s nice to see you.” There’s a little shake in my voice. I’m still vibrating with adrenaline.

I seem to be running on fight or flight fumes a lot lately. I’ve had enough stress, without all the drama yesterday.

Giving myself a mental shake, I try to avoid looking around for Walt.

As I sip from the bamboo straw, feeling a smidge sorry for myself, Peter glances at the clock.

The wrinkles in his face deepen “He’s been waiting a while.”

“Good.” I draw in another mouthful of cold water, praying it puts out some of the angry fire in my gut. “He can wait a bit longer. I want to visit with you.”

With a tsk of his tongue he frowns at me from behind the bar. “Child, you’re pushing your luck.”

My smirk comes quickly. “Haven’t I always?”

He knows it’s true. The hard line of his mouth transforms into a curl and he chuckles softly. “That’s why you were your grandfather’s favorite.”

Ouch.

I should have expected a remark like that. But inside my chest there’s a sharp sting. It clutters my breathing for a few seconds.

I tease him back. “Peter, I was his only grandchild.”

The soft gray color of his eyes gets cloudy. “You were the apple of his eye.”

My smile is both painful and watery. Every time my grandfather is mentioned, it’s like being impaled by a sword. Still after all these months.

Will it ever hurt less?

I sip again and drop my gaze to the bar’s shiny surface so Peter can’t see my own emotions glistening on my lashes.

His warm, familiar voice offers a bit of relief. “How are you doing?”

I blink away the moisture and shrug, forcing myself to breathe slowly. “I’m doing fine.”

Fine.Not really,but I’m holding it together. Most days.

The nights…now those are a different story.

Peter’s only waitress, Rissa Mendez, hustles up to the bar. When she sees that Peter and I are visiting, she tosses a flashing smile my way and hurries behind the bar to fix the drink order herself.

She’s filling a shot glass when she calls over her shoulder, “Mar-mar, look at your dress. How lovely.”

Rissa always uses my childhood nickname, even though I’m twenty-four. Funny how it still makes my heart warm.

“Thanks, Rissa. I had to come to town for a meeting at the bank, otherwise I’d be in work clothes.”

She chuckles and fills another glass. “I was confused. Didn’t think you got dressed up for coming in here, especially to see him.”

Rissa is not talking about Peter.

I snort. “You know me well.”

Flipping her gaze past me to the back of the restaurant, she lifts her chin. “He’s in the back dining room, and be warned, he’s in rare form.”

The refreshing well water in my glass takes on a bitter taste. “Imagine that. I’d have been surprised if you reported otherwise.”

She shakes her head, holding up a bottle of tequila with a very familiar logo on the front. “Want a shot before you go over there?”

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