Free The Loner: Crossfire by J.A. Johnstone Page A

than a small, rickety-looking table. The light came from gas fixtures hung over the balcony. Their glow spilled over the short partitions, making the room a little dim, but Conrad had no trouble seeing the puzzled expression on Carmen’s painted face as she looked up at him.
    “What is it you wish me to do?” she asked.
    “I thought we’d talk for a few minutes first. I like to get to know a girl before I—”
    “Then you are an unusual man,” Carmen said. “Most men don’t want to know anything about me.”
    “I’m not like most men. You should know that because I have that token from the Golden Gate, right?”
    She nodded. “Oh, yes, only the best people go there. Well, the best people for this part of town, anyway. I have heard there are crystal chandeliers. Is this true?”
    “I never paid that much attention to the lights.” Conrad dodged the question.
    “And a long bar made of the finest mahogany. I would love to see it.”
    “I’m sure you will, one of these days. Maybe I’ll take you. How’d you like to go sporting in there on my arm?”
    “Oh, señor, that would be wonderful.” She sounded more like she meant it. She started to push her dress off her shoulders, obviously figuring she would disrobe in the other direction, since he’d stopped her from pulling the garment over her head.
    “Hold on, hold on. It’s been a long time since I’ve been there. The Golden Gate’s on Kearny Street, right?”
    Carmen shook her head. “No, no, on Grant, near where the Chinese live.”
    “Oh, yeah, that’s right. On Grant Street. I told you it’s been a long time.”
    Carmen reached for her dress again. “Please, señor, if we do not do what we came up here for, I will get in trouble.”
    “I never said we weren’t going to.”
    “But I am only allowed so much time with each customer—”
    Conrad took the token from his pocket and held it up. “You have to show one of these before they’ll let you into the place, right?”
    “Into the private rooms on the second floor, yes, or so I have heard.” Carmen frowned again. “But you would know that, if you have been there.”
    “I just wasn’t sure what the procedure was now, since I’ve been gone for a while.”
    His explanation didn’t lessen the suspicion in her eyes. She stood up suddenly. “Did you bring me up here because you like me, señor, or because you are some sort of spy?”
    “Spy?” Conrad repeated. “That’s crazy. I just—”
    Without warning, she darted past him and jerked aside the curtain that closed off the room. As she rushed out, Conrad reached for her but missed. “Dutchy!” she cried as she ran onto the balcony. “Dutchy!”
    Conrad hurried after her. She was at the landing at the top of the stairs. The fat bartender had come out from behind the bar and was waiting at the bottom of the stairs with an angry expression on his florid face. “What in blazes is goin’ on up there?” he demanded as the men drinking at the bar and the scattered tables looked on with interest.
    Carmen ran down the stairs. “He asks too many questions, Dutchy! I think he is a spy for one of your competitors ... or a policeman!”
    “I’m not either of those things,” Conrad insisted as he reached the top of the staircase. “I was just talking to the girl—”
    “Men who come here aren’t interested in talking,” Dutchy said with a glare. “I don’t know what you’re up to, mister, but I don’t like it.”
    Conrad knew he had found out everything he was going to. Actually, it had been a pretty productive visit. But it was time to go. He wasn’t worried about the bartender being able to stop him.
    But then Dutchy shouted, “Hans! Ulrich!” and two men emerged from the shadows, one at each end of the balcony. The huge, blond bruisers stalked toward Conrad, each with scarred fists and broken noses of men who had dealt out and received plenty of violence in their lives.
    “Take him!” Dutchy ordered. “I show you what