Page 108 of The Grave Artist
“Civilians don’t participate in police investigations,” he said to her as they pulled into the parking lot of Paquito’s Bar in a seedy part of North Hollywood.
“Technically, it’s not one,” she said sweetly. “Carmen hasn’t made it official, and you don’t have jurisdiction.”
“You know what I’m saying.”
“And besides, we’re just talking to a bartender, not a suspect.”
“It’s still an investigation, whoever you’re talking to.” He shut off the engine and turned to face her. “I don’t know how to say this, so I’ll be blunt.” He looked her up and down. “This is a sleazy joint and you’re ... hot.”
He blushed. And she felt a shiver of pleasure to hear him use the word to describe her.
“You’ll attract the wrong kind of attention. I’ll go in there by myself.”
She felt terrible for doing it but played on his chivalry. “And leave me out here in this parking lot all by myself? Anyone could snatch me right out of this car.”
She had a brief thought about the black SUV, the Edge, and even looked around for it, but saw no sign.
“It’s North Hollywood. True, it’s not Beverly Hills, but the odds of getting kidnapped are pretty low. And do you really think there’s anybody here you couldn’t kick their ass?”
Her sister had taught Selina some basic, but effective, martial arts moves.
Her shrug was accompanied by a plaintive look. “Sorry, there goes your excuse for not letting me come inside. I’ll just kick the ass of whoever’s wrong kind of attention I attract.”
He sighed.
She saw the inner battle raging in his expressive features.
“Just stay close to me and do exactly what I say.”
The last part of the sentence was a bit of a speed bump, and irritated her, but she put it down to his legit concern about the dangers of going into a bar where hit men—or one at least—frequented.
They climbed out. She navigated around the car and threw her arms around him. “Thank you.” Then she laughed and thumped his chest. “You’re even hunkier than I thought.”
“Ballistic vest. Lot of gold shields wear them under our dress shirts. It’ll come as a shock, but there’re a lot of guns in this country. Let’s go. And remember our deal.”
She tucked away the urge to protest—really?Do exactly what I say? But didn’t disabuse him of the notion that she would be a meek little lady. “Absolutely.”
She glanced up at the sign above the entrance as she followed Ryan inside.
Paquito’s Bar
She stayed close on his heels as he made his way through the Lysol-scented and dingy interior toward the bar, which was located in the back against the rear wall.
“What’ll it be?” the bartender asked when they perched themselves on two of the torn vinyl-covered stools in the nearly empty space.
Oh, yeah, a bald vampire.
Shaved head, ultra-pale skin, black spooky eyes.
No missing Nando.
Selina looked around. She was surprised to see how few patrons were in the bar. Was it because the place was known to be dangerous, or was it because they were known to water down their booze? Of course, it was early, though places like this drew flies from the minute the door opened to last call.
“I’ll have a beer,” he said. “IPA. Whatever’s on tap.”
Nando turned to her with a lascivious grin that exposed a gold front tooth.“¿Qué quieres, mami?”
The barkeep was being a tad familiar, but she pretended to be flattered. “A whiskey sour. Maker’s.”
