Page 33 of Fire on the Moon

Chapter Eleven

Zane kept his gaze on Francesca.

“Okay.”

That word of agreement was like ten-pound weights being lifted off his shoulders. She’d been chafing at the precautions he’d insisted on since the escape from the thugs, but the man walking down the dock had served a good purpose. She seemed to have finally gotten the idea that he wasn’t laying down edicts to torture both of them.

“What do you want me to do?”

He laughed, the first humor he’d seen in this situation. “Actually, I haven’t decided how to work this. Maybe the first thing you should do is get some rest.”

She nodded. “That makes sense.”

Relieved that she’d agreed, he walked down the companionway. “I’m going to take the room on the dock side, so I can keep an eye on the surroundings.

In his cabin, he closed the curtain, listening as he heard Francesca follow him to the cabins. When he thought she was settled in her bunk, he plugged in his computer to the electrical system on the boat and hooked into the marina’s Wi-Fi. First he got a map showing the location of The Tin Man bar and found it was a block away from Tin City. When he opened the Web site he found several pictures.

Like its namesake, the building had corrugated tin walls. The bar itself was located along one of the long interior walls with the lower portion also built of tin. The top was a long piece of native cypress. Industrial light fixtures hung from the ceiling. Additional decor consisted of neon signs advertising various brands of beer. There were no windows. The place did not serve meals, only a variety of cheap snacks.

The tables were unattractive brown plastic with chairs that mostly matched.

What Zane liked best was the large parking lot in front and around the right side. Hopefully, he and Francesca could get a space away from the door but close enough to watch who was coming in and out.

Around six, he checked his weapon and put his windbreaker back on. Of course Florida was an open carry state, but he preferred not to be provocative.

Francesca was lying on her bed. When she looked up at him, he had to stifle the impulse to join her on the horizontal surface.

“I was afraid you were going to leave me here,” she murmured.

“I said I’d take you.”

“I know . . . but.”

He eased onto the side of the bed and reached for her hand. Keeping his voice even he said, “I will never lie to you.”

“Thank you.”

After a long moment, he asked, “And you?”

She swallowed and was silent for several seconds. Finally she said, “I don’t want to, but if it would save your life, I would.”

Their eyes locked.

“Okay, I can say the same thing,” he answered.

He held her gaze for a few moments longer, then looked away. If he had to lie to her to save her life, it would mean he was thinking he was going to get killed, and he was desperately trying to keep her out of it. That wasn’t counting his lie of omission—about the wolf—of course.

“Enough dire talk,” he said. “I know where to find the bar, and I’ve looked at pictures of the interior.”

“You said we weren’t going in.”

“That’s right, but I wanted to know the layout, so I need to make a quick visit. Let’s sit in the dining area and make some plans.”

She followed him down the hall where he set the computer on the table and showed her both exterior and interior views of The Tin Man.

“Not exactly upscale,” she murmured.

“Right. I guess that’s why a lowlife hit man hangs out there.”

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