Page 50 of Radar

“Guilty,” Xander said. “And salt away.”

Elyssa sprinkled the salt heavily on the far side of the platter, leaving the rest for others to decide how salty they liked their food.

“So, how do you keep women hikers from being terrified?” Eddie asked.

“Usually, I talk to Radar about how he’s a good boy. I crouch down to rub his scruff, and he makes those deep guttural sounds of pleasure, so the woman knows my dog is relaxed, that means my dog doesn’t feel tension in me, I’m not revving up for something.”

“True if she knows dogs,” Elyssa said, with a shifting light in her eye that made Xander think that she was settling deeper into the conversation, growing more comfortable. “I think it’s a gut knowing that if a dog is blissing, there’s not a lot of danger.”

“Yeah. If I don’t have Radar with me, and I see a woman, I just say, ‘I see you coming up the path, how do you want me to handle this, so you feel safe?’ That’s usually enough to get a raised hand and a ‘you’re good.’”

“I get that,” Elyssa said, “It means you understand the danger, you know the lingo, and you’re comfortable with consent. And it means some woman or women educated you about their experiences, and you took it to heart and modified your behavior. I know for sure that whatever you wanted to do to me, you could do it. I have only your moral compass and integrity keeping me safe. That and your dog.” She stared at him for a long moment and then asked, “Did you say your name is Ender?”

“Ender Belov.” Xander didn’t use a cover in the field. His work, so far, hadn’t required him to develop a secondary persona. Being two people was time-consuming and mind-bending, so he preferred it that way. But to keep himself as unsearchable on the Internet as possible, Xander used his call sign, Ender, in the field as a layer of anonymity.

“Ender?” It was as if Elyssa was tasting it to see if she liked it in her mouth.

And that thought sent Xander’s hormones flooding through his system. “It’s a nickname I got in the military,” he said evenly.

“Ender. Like you ended things?” Her brows pulled together. “Endedpeople?”

Huh, no one had asked him that before. It was a reasonable question, especially given the topic they’d started with. Her facial muscles stiffened as she grew wary.

“I ended conflicts with analysis,” he said to wipe away the images she might be conjuring. It was true enough if he was malleable with the definition of the word ‘analysis.’ It was interesting, though, that while Xander trained to say what was necessary to get a job done, he felt uncomfortable obfuscating when answering Elyssa. “My given name isn’t much different – It’s Xander Belov.” He smiled. “You can call me Xander if you like it better.”

Did it matter that Squirrel-guy knew his name?

“Ender from Xander,” Eddie lightened things back up. “At least they didn’t go with Dander.”

“Are you calling him flaky?” Elyssa asked with a laugh. She turned back to Xander, “They could have gone for your last name instead, Belov could easily morph into ‘Beloved.’”

Did she turn pink when she said that? Was that a blush?

“Can you imagine trying to get through boot camp called Beloved?” Paca snort-laughed.

“No one ever suggested that before?’ Elyssa asked.

“Never.” Xander let a slow smile spread across his face. “Well, my grandmother called me beloved, but I was about five, and it came with a cookie.”

And as fun as this conversation was, there was humanity to save, Xander reminded himself.

Chapter Seventeen

Xander

Saturday

Lumberjack, Alaska

It was time to let the squirrel guy bring up Orest Kalinsky’s name. “What’s the connection? How’d you all meet?” Xander asked. They were obviously here together, and he needed to know if Eddie and Elyssa were involved with Orest, too.

“We just met Paca today,” Eddie said. “But I conferred bestie status on Elyssa the night she threw me over her shoulder and sprinted with me out of a party, popped me in her car, and drove us into the sunset.”

Xander waited for the punch line.

“Dude, what?” Paca leaned forward.

“I was at this cocktail party barbeque thing. Let’s just say I was on the wrong side of the tracks, and it wasn’t a safe zone for someone of my delicate stature.”

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