Free Collision Course by Desiree Holt Page B

circulation. Rubbing his face, he realized he’d
been sweating despite the air conditioning. Unplugging the laptop, he carried
it with him on a hurried trip to the men’s room to wash up and cool off. No way
could he leave it sitting there for someone to grab.
    The
waitress was standing by the coffee bar when he headed back to his booth.
    She
quirked an eyebrow at him. “You write in the men’s room, too?”
    “What?”
He made himself breathe and relax. “No, of course not. But you have to be
careful about leaving things around these days.”
    A spark
of anger gleamed in her eyes. “I can assure you, Mr. Buck, the people who come
here are honest. And we always keep an eye on things for them, if they take a
break.”
    “Thanks.”
His fingers tightened on the laptop. “I’ll keep it in mind.” He dug up a smile
from somewhere. “I think it’s time I ordered lunch.”
    “Yes.”
Sarcasm hung heavy in her voice. “Writing must make you hungry.”
    She took
his order, still unsmiling, and in a few minutes brought his club sandwich.
    “Thank
you.” Be pleasant, but distant. Then his next words blurted out before
he could stop himself. “I didn’t catch your name.”
    Terrific.
Now she’d ask for his. He’d been doing a good job avoiding just this.
    He
relaxed a little when she said, “Casey. My folks have owned this place for
ages.”
    “And you
work here with them?” He didn’t know why—maybe some invisible vibe reaching out
to him—but he had the feeling someone like her would have more opportunities
available.
    “More
like I work for them.” The smile didn’t seem quite genuine.
“I’m…examining my career options. Kind of like rearranging priorities.”
    Interesting.
Sort of what he’d said to her. Except he doubted if her crisis came anywhere
close to his.
    “Well,
Casey, I apologize if I seemed rude before. I’m a stranger here so…” He let the
words trail off.
    She
nodded but the stiffness seemed to ease from her body and she actually grinned
at him. “Can I get you anything else?”
    “No, I’m
fine. Thanks.”
    “You
should get up and stretch once in a while,” she cautioned him. “Go someplace
besides the restroom. Too much sitting without a break is bad for the
circulation.”
    “Yeah?”
He let his gaze roam the other booths. “I see a lot of other people who haven’t
moved. Do you warn them, too?”
    “Absolutely.
Sometimes they even listen.” She turned away from him. “Well, shout out if you
want something.”
    She
moved down the rows of booths and tables, checking on her customers. Something
about her intrigued him, something besides the unexpected sexual sizzle
exploding between them earlier. Trey had been attracted to women before, but he
didn’t remember anything hitting him quite so hard. As if two magnetic fields
were drawn together instead of pulling apart. Of course, it had to pop up when
sexual attraction didn’t even make the list of things he needed. When
distractions could cost him his life.
    He
booted up the computer again and opened the last file he’d been working on. As
he studied the screen in front of him, a tiny finger of cold snaked down his
spine. If he’d been afraid before, now he felt real terror. As he dug more deeply
into Bennett’s files, he became much more dangerous to the man and his
associates. He wasn’t dealing here with your average crooked people; they were
beyond evil.
    By now
he’d figured out the path the funds took through various banks as each
transaction unfolded. In the Funda Foundation’s accounts, alone, he found he
could follow the trail from buying drugs to selling them to wholesalers, using
the income to purchase arms and distributing them to a Third World country in
revolt. With a handsome payment, of course, either from the man in power or the
rebel leader, depending who’d contracted for the goods. It seemed Bennett and
his friends didn’t care as long as the cash ended up in their