Page 8 of Touched

Of course, it’s the Trahans…

I raise an eyebrow, but say nothing, as I notice the waitress coming back.

Now, we’re finally getting somewhere.

She drops the drinks in front of Tony on the worn, yet gleaming table. Waving her off when she asks if we need anything else, I continue to stare at him. He shoots back all three shots in quick succession, then, takes a long pull from the little black straw bobbing in the pink and orange drink. He moans in appreciation.

“Seriously?” I ask, jutting my chin at his colorful drink.

“Fuck you,” he replies. “They’re delicious.” He smiles flippantly at me with yellowed teeth. “Maybe you should try a Bloody Mary with bacon or ham as a garnish. Or would that be cannibalism?” He leans back in the chair, grinning at his own words. He seems quite pleased with himself.

Like I’ve never heard that before. You need better ammo than that to hit me, fucktard.

“Date and time of the drop,” I insist, annoyed that he seems to be relaxing from the alcohol. I need him scared to talk.

He takes his time, looking around again, seemingly toying with me. The alcohol seems to have disarmed him a bit. I take my knife from my pocket, flick it open, and stab it into the wooden table between two fingers on his hand. Mere millimeters are between the sharp edge and his skin. I grit out between my teeth, “Stop. Doing. That.”

“Motherfucker!” he gasps, bolting upright and yanking his hand back, cradling it to his chest protectively.

Grinning, I repeat, “Date and time?”

Tony shakily reaches for his drink and takes another long, gulping chug, ignoring the dainty straw this time, before he mutters, “Friday, midnight.”

Leaning back in my chair with a grin, I retort, “See? Now, was that so hard?”

“Screw—”

Taking two twenties from my wallet as I stand, I throw them on the table and walk out without another word as Tony silently glares behind me.

That’s the info I needed.

Now, where is that gorgeous woman with the golden eyes?

As I make my way back out into the sweltering heat, my head’s on a swivel.

Where could she have gone?

I make my way to my truck and unlock it, then get in, breathing a sigh of relief when the A/C blasts me in the face, though it takes a bit to cool down.

Driving slowly down the one-way street, I once again look for Aeris. She is definitely the type who doesn’t blend in with a crowd. She has a look about her that’s unique and different especially those eyes. Those weirdly-golden eyes that almost glow.

As I gradually make my way out of the French Quarter, I give up looking for the beautiful woman and vow to come back later. I have to get back to work and get this intel where it needs to go. I head back toward the station. Here’s hoping for a big bust on Friday.

My cell rings. As I’m scrambling to get it out of my pocket, it falls to the floorboard.

“Dammit,” I grumble.

Thankfully, it’s slow going down the street due to all the foot traffic, so I try to steer and watch as I blindly reach for the phone that’s sliding around on my grimy floormat.

Damn New Orleans streets. No telling what I’m touching that’s come off the bottom of my boots.

Glancing down, I see it’s my lieutenant calling. As I snatch it up, I hit the answer button. “LeBla...” I look up a split second before I hit a pedestrian.

No… not a pedestrian. Aeris.

I slam on the brakes.

“I’ll call you back, LT,” I say, disconnecting the call. Throwing the truck into park, I get out, and stare down at the strange, beautiful woman who has been consuming my thoughts sprawled in the middle of the road. Cars honk, and people yell obscenities behind us.

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