I'm taking a trip to the islands after this hit, and Claudia is coming with me. I hate all the fucking layers.
The small hotel is nice, but nothing extravagant. The lobby reminds me of someone's living room with the roaring fire, wing-backed chairs and couches situated around it. There's even pictures of wildlife on the walls. Hand-painted portraits of elk and deer and snow rabbit's.
"Excuse me," I get the attention of the receptionist behind the desk. "Can you recommend some place to eat close by?" The woman with long, black hair and creases around her eyes smiles. She seems genuine enough.
"Are you in the mood for anything particular?"
"Just someplace I can get a strong drink and something other than a hamburger."
She laughs. "You'll want to go to McDevon's. Great microbrews, but the crowd can get a little iffy in the evening hours."
Iffy? "Sounds like my kind of place. Thanks." I shove my hands in my pockets and head out to the truck.
McDevon's is a seven-minute drive away from the hotel, located just off the main road. From the outside, it looks like an overgrown log cabin, and the only sign is a license plate stuck to the front door. I hope the receptionist was right about the iffy crowd, because I wouldn't mind finding some trouble. Ideally in the form of a hot, drunk local looking to get laid.
I open the door just wide enough so I can slip through. I'm not one to make an entrance. Walk soft and carry a big stick and all. I survey the inside of the establishment. Lots of locals, it looks like. Hopefully, I won't stick out too much, but we'll see. Scanning the bar for a seat, my heart jumps when my eyes land on a particular patron. I walk around the long, rectangular bar slowly as if making my way to the bathroom. Spying behind two burly men in ugly flannel I finally find my target. Benjamin fucking Sabatino. Of all the bars in all the world . . .
I continue my trek around the room, attempting to draw as little attention to myself as possible as I close in on the man I've been searching for. Without his jacket on he doesn't seem as big, but he's still large, with broad shoulders and thick arms. His hair is tucked behind his ears just like in the picture, but in person it's shiny and a pretty chestnut brown. His beard could use a trim. Facial hair has never done anything for me. After surveying him for a few moments, I notice he never takes his eyes off his beer, as if the amber liquid is holding him hostage.
What is he thinking about?
Why do you care?
You've finally found your mark. Do your job.
I can almost hear Regina sneer at me.
It's not like I can take him out right here in a room full of people, but I can play with my prey a little before I kill it. I head in Benjamin's direction, plotting a way to break the ice, when a man steps right in front of me.
"Hey there." He gazes down at me with glassy eyes. "I noticed you over here, standing all alone, and I wondered if I could buy you a drink."
"Um." I barely acknowledge him as I keep my full attention on Benjamin, not wanting to lose sight of him. "No, thanks." I try to step around the guy in Levi jeans and cowboy boots, but he blocks me once again.
"C'mon now, I'm just trying to be nice. I don't bite."
I don't believe a word of his fake sincerity. He's a predator in the flesh. I can tell by the way he's eyeing me and his intimidating stance. He screams attacker.
"No, I'm good. Thanks." The guy sitting next to Benjamin gets up, providing me the perfect opportunity. I step to the left and then the right, throwing the guy off so I can get by.
"You're not very nice!" the drunk yells as I swiftly walk away. I throw up the middle finger at him. He has no idea how not very nice I can be. He's lucky I'm letting him live. I hop on the barstool like a cute little kitten and look over at Benjamin. "Do you know what's good here?" I unzip my jacket, making myself comfortable before picking up the menu from the caddy in front of me. It takes him a second to realize who I'm talking to, looking around before his eyes finally land on me. I wasn't expecting such an effect as his sparkly green irises draw me in with no preemptive warning.
Fuck, he's hot. And a mark, I have to remind myself. A walking dead man with a target on his back.
"The winter ale and the Big Lebowski."
"Huh?" I flip open the menu to see what exactly the Big Lebowski is. A grilled lamb burger smothered in Tzatziki sauce. "Mmm . . . I think I'll go with a salad."
"Suit yourself." He takes a sip of his beer but doesn't take his hypnotic eyes off me. I shouldn't like the fact he's looking at me like all men do. Wait, let me clarify, I shouldn't like it as much as I do.
The bartender finally gets a second to take my drink order. "A Jack and ginger, please. With a cherry."