Page 16 of Harris

“Yeah, well, I had nothing else going on.” He was still going with the not-too-eager persona.

The bartender brought over their beers, and Harris took a swig. He wanted to remain aloof. He might give himself away or raise the guy’s suspicions if he seemed too into him.

“That makes me lucky,then. So, what brings you to town, Harris?”

“Friends of mine had business in town. You?” That was vague enough while still being plausible.

“Service call. I work in IT, and my boss sends me out when shit hits the fan. However, I don’t mind; NewOrleans is a great place to visit,” Joe said before drinking his beer.

“Yeah, seems like the place has a lot to offer visitors,” Harris replied. Yep, he sucked at small talk.

“Have you ever been to Bourbon Street?”

“Nope.”

“You’d like it. All the music, bars and restaurants. If it’s a party you’re looking for, that’s the place to find it.”

“Maybe I’ll check it out.”

“I could show you around. I come here for work often and have gotten to know the place well,” Joe offered.

“Maybe. I don’t know how long we’ll be in town.”

Joe nodded and took another drink. A football game was on the television above the bar, and Harris made it appear like he was watching it. The giant at the end of the bar had a plate of wings in front of him and was watching the game as well. Harris could almost see the wheels turning in Joe’s head, likely trying to devise a reason to keep him engaged.

“Two more Buds,” Joe said to the bartender. “You hungry?” he asked Harris.

He had to throw the guy a bone. “I could eat.”

Joe’s relief was palpable. Woodley wondered if Spencer was getting anywhere with identifying the men who’d been following the team so far. Harris hoped he was having better luck than him. This division of the Noah Group appeared to be scraping the bottom of the barrel.

CHAPTER SIX

Woodley

The more this Joe characterspoke, the less threatened Woodley feltabout the guy trying to take advantage of Harris and make a move on him. Joe was not a player; hell, he wasn’t even in the same ballpark.

Woodley satwith the rest of the team at the rental, watching as Harris endured what might beconsidered the roughestpseudo-dateever. He was beginning to feel like an idiot forbeing jealous in the first place. Smooth.

“Okay, am I the only one having a hard time believing this guy is a threat in any way?” Gunner asked.

“I was about to say the same thing,” Woodley agreed.

“It’s not him I’m interested in,” Spencer said. “Conor, do you get anything from the other guy at the bar?”

“That fuckin’ giant dude?” Conor asked.

“Yes. He strikes me as out of place,” Brick stated from the hotel room.

“He’d be more in place at a bodybuilding competition,” Shaw quipped.

Conormoved closer to the screen as two plates of wings arrivedfor Harris and Joe. Woodley watched as Conor homed in on the mystery man. It wasfascinatingwatching Conor switch on and concentrate on the muscled stranger. The guy never glanced Harris’s way but kept his eyes on the game on the television. At points, he even cheered when one of the teams scored and groaned when a whistleblew. The guy seemed oblivious toanyoneelse in the bar. Too oblivious, perhaps.

“He seems to be forcing himself not to look across the bar,” Woodley commented.

“Agreed,” Spencer said.

“Something’s off.” Brick’s voice came across the comms. “What are you getting, Conor?”

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