Page 15 of Bratva Hunter

She smiles. “You look like a runaway princess, let’s call you ‘Amira’. It’s Arabic for princess.” The corners of her lips lift. “Fits you.”

I stand to take our dishes to the kitchen as the cook smiles. “I’ll get those.”

“Nah. You made the food, I’ll clean up.”

He cocks his head. “Want to waitress here?”

My hands stop as I’m setting the plates in the sink “What?”

“No one will think to look for you here.” His face softens. “You can make a little money and rest a little. I guess you’ve been running for a little while.”

I nod. “But the owner?”

“Ha. He’ll be fine with it. He’s the worst at bringing in strays. He’s got a room upstairs you can have while you’re here. And when you’re ready to go, Julie will come back and take you to your next destination.”

For the first time since my father died, I feel relief. I could stay. Julie’s head is bobbing in agreement as a very large bald man enters the kitchen. His brows lift as he scrutinizes me before he sees Julie. “Julie.” He walks to her and plucks her out of her seat, pulling her into his arms, and spins her around.“Why didn’t you say you were coming?” He sets her down and all eyes revert to me.

“I have a fare.”

He extends his hand to me, and I shake it. “Hi. I’m Jefferson, I own the tavern. And you are?”

I jerk my head to Julie who smiles. “This is Amira. Marcel just hired her.”

Jefferson pivots his head to his cook. “Oh?”

“Yeah. She needs a job and a place to stay for a while. I like her.”

He scoffs. “Well, okay.” His head cocks in my direction. “Come on, I’ll show you the room upstairs.”

Julie starts to walk out the door, calling over her shoulder. “I’ll get the princess her stuff.”

Great, just what I need, another person calling me princess. Jefferson is through the side door and halfway up the stairs before I get my feet moving to follow. The narrow stairs break onto a landing with three rooms. He points. “That’s my room. That’s Marcel’s room and…” He opens the door to the farthest room down the hall. Entering, throwing his arm out with a flourish. “This is yours.”

I step inside. The room is tastefully decorated in warm blues and grays. The honey oak furniture is antique, with general nicks and scars, but homey. A queen-size bed calls out to me.

Julie enters the room with all my bags, and he smiles at his sister. “There’s a bathroom with a tub and a shower. You look like you could use a bath.”

Julie sets the bags on the dresser. “I’m heading back to Santa Fe.” She kisses her brother’s cheek. “They’ll take good care of you.” She hands me a business card with her name and a number. “If you need anything, call.” I don’t get to answer, and she’s gone.

Jefferson moves to the door, following Julie. “Get settled. We’ll talk about what you can do here at the tavern in the early afternoon. Tomorrow is our late-opening day.”

Chapter 4

RORIC

I get off the interstate and drive toward downtown Santa Fe. The hotel is a smaller, independently owned building off the hustle and bustle of Main Street. Tall pine trees surround the little adobe building. The front of the hotel faces the street, and the back is hidden by the wings of the four-story hotel, with a door in the center that most likely leads to the lobby. Hitting the call button, Fingers answers. “Hello, Roric.”

“Hey. Whatcha’ got?”

“She was at the Pinion Hotel in Santa Fe, but the cops reported that she’s gone. There was a shooting.”

“What? What the fuck?”

“Some guy entered her room and hotel security shot him. She wasn’t in the room, but came in after. She got a different room and then disappeared.”

“Who was the shooter?”

“I’m looking into that. He looks like a biker. His patch on the back of his jacket reads ‘Las Vegas,’ and there’s some kind of skull.

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