Free Then You Hide by Roxanne St. Claire Page B

and say bad words.” She notched her head toward the bartender. “Want me to get him over here to talk?”
    “I want you to go to the ladies’ room and stay put for five whole minutes. Is that a remote possibility?”
    “You would trust me to do that again?” She lowered her glasses and looked at him over the frames, finally giving him a chance to look directly into her eyes. The pupils were surrounded by a dark ring of navy, and her eyelashes were long and thick. Why would a woman hide artillery like that behind horn-rimmed glasses?
    “Of course I trust you,” he replied. “We just toasted. Where I come from, that and a handshake are as good as a written contract.”
    “Where I come from, that and a handshake mean you met in the bar and may or may not exchange accurate cell-phone numbers.”
    “Since this is technically south of the Mason-Dixon Line, let’s call it a deal. Agreed?”
    She hesitated, then got up.
    He stood instantly, and she acknowledged the gesture with a wry smile. “That’s right. South of the Mason-Dixon Line. I forgot.”
    He tilted his head to the lobby. “Five full minutes.”
    She took a quick sip of vodka, snagged her handbag, and trotted off while Henry worked his way over.
    Wade lifted his bright green bottle. “Great recommendation. Local brew?”
    “In Dominica. The secret is the island fresh water.”
    Wade shot the breeze about local beers for another minute, but since his idea of five minutes and hers were probably not the same, he nodded to the empty barstool to get a subtle interrogation going. “She tells me you’ve seen her friend.”
    “I have.” Henry glanced toward the lobby, then back to Wade. “She is with you? She is your woman?”
    “If I’m lucky.” Wade leaned back, keeping his body language loose and unthreatening. “Maybe you can help.”
    Henry smiled at the conspiratorial tone, like any guy who’d want to help the male species in the quest to get laid.
    “But she’s real uptight about this guy she’s looking for.”
    “Yes, she is.” Henry touched the top of one of the bottles. “I’ll make her a strong one, if you like.”
    Stronger than straight vodka? Wade laughed softly. “What I’d like is a tip on her friend, so she can find him and I can get down to business.”
    Henry nodded understandingly and rubbed his wiry goatee. “A bartender can be in a difficult position when someone asks about a guest.”
    “I bet that’s tough.” Wade nodded sympathetically. “But I’m a guest here, and she’s not. Check the registration desk.”
    Henry leaned closer. “He’s gay. Does she know?”
    She’d never really said. But given Gideon Bones’s establishment and the men he’d seen Vanessa talk to this afternoon, he’d already surmised that the missing man was gay. Vanessa was too smart not to know that as well.
    “She knows,” Wade assured him. “They’re just friends.”
    “Whatever. Believe me, I see it all here.”
    The clock was ticking, but he took a slow sip of his beer. “So, what did you see with this guy?”
    “Jason? Well, he was traveling with a man,” Henry said as he wiped the bar in front of Wade. “A good-looking fellow, built even bigger than you. The man—I do not know his name, because he never once ordered a drink—was very attentive to Jason.” He lowered his voice. “Until they had a very bad argument. Then—”
    “Excuse me.” At the end of the bar, a middle-aged woman wearing the cream-colored shirt of Four Seasons management glared at Henry. “Those people are waiting.”
    “Pardon me, sir,” Henry said, averting his eyes at the reprimand. Then he gestured with the rag. “Here she comes.”
    Through the lobby glass, Wade could see a flash of platinum locks flying and shapely tanned legs devouring the marble. Vanessa at warp speed.
    She sailed back to her stool and looked from him to the departed bartender. “Doesn’t look like you did much male bonding while I was gone.”
    “As a matter of