already watching him, and prepared a smile of greeting for him—so she wasn't stupid at least. She understood enough to know that she would be expected to be looking for company. This was good. It made the next few steps easier to take with her.
"Hey, you want another beer?" he asked casually.
"Sure, but I don't talk to strangers," she said with a sly smile.
"Elias. Elias Neal," he offered.
"Chelsea," she smiled, "Now that you aren't a stranger, I suppose I'll accept the beer."
Elias motioned to the bartender, "Frank? Two more of the same please, and a shot of whiskey."
"Not trying to get me drunk area you, Elias?" she asked.
"No, I thought I would try to get me drunk, but if you want one, it is easily done," he offered.
"Rum, on the rocks," she told him.
Elias nodded and let Frank know the change of order, then he sat down on the stool next to her. "Did you just get into town?" he asked, nodding to her luggage.
"Oh, um, yes, sort of," she told him.
"Looking for a hotel?"
"No, not right now. A diner would be good. Something open all night? Something close?" she asked.
Elias nodded to himself. Not wanting a hotel was evidence enough that his first appraisal had some merit.
Frank interrupted them by setting down the drinks. Elias laid a twenty on the bar and told Frank to keep the change. Once Frank was gone, Elias mulled over several conversational options, and decided on the cut-the-bullshit trail.
"I'm guessing that you are looking for a place to lay low. Can you tell me how serious your worries are?" he asked.
Her eyes went slightly wide, but she recovered quickly enough. "That obvious, huh?"
"Obvious to anyone who knows what they are looking at, yes, but probably not to most of the people here."
"Are you with the White Wolves?" she asked.
"Yes, I'm an officer. Sergeant at Arms."
"Are you an outlaw group?" she asked.
"Not particularly, no, but some of our members aren't exactly angels," he told her with a grin.
"What about you?"
"Me? I have a few irons in a few fires, but mostly I work for a living."
"Can I ask what you do?"
"Sure, if I can get an answer to my first question—how serious are your worries?"
She searched his eyes, and then took a sip of her rum. "Very."
"Then we should probably get you into a safe place before closing," he offered. "And to answer your question, I trade stocks, have a few rental houses, and paint custom tanks and bike frames. The last is more or less a hobby but I make some coin doing it."
"No drugs?"
"I have been known to partake, but I don't deal if that is what you are asking," he replied. "You hiding from the law?"
"No—well, not really. I just left my boyfriend. But he's a cop. Detective. Narcotics. I lived in Houston, near downtown. He's good at finding people, so I chose this area since I don't have any ties to it at all until I could figure out where to go from here."
"No car?" he asked, and when he saw the question in her eyes, he added, "No headlights through the windows before you came in. So, I'm guessing you are on foot."
She nodded to this and sighed. "You don't miss much do you?"
"Not on a good day, no. So, no car? Or did you decide that would be too easy to track?"
"I left it behind," she told him. Then offered, "Vanity plates."
"Ah." He nodded, and took a long drink from his bottle. "Well, as it happens, I drove my truck here tonight, so I can give you a lift if you would like."
"Where?"
"Well, the best place would be my house. You can sleep in the spare room, get a shower, a meal, and we can talk about the rest in the morning," he offered.
"You don't even know me. Why would you offer that?" she asked warily.
"My mother was on the run with two kids from my father, who was a drunk, an addict, and liked to talk with his fists. If someone would have offered the same to her, she might
"Hey, you want another beer?" he asked casually.
"Sure, but I don't talk to strangers," she said with a sly smile.
"Elias. Elias Neal," he offered.
"Chelsea," she smiled, "Now that you aren't a stranger, I suppose I'll accept the beer."
Elias motioned to the bartender, "Frank? Two more of the same please, and a shot of whiskey."
"Not trying to get me drunk area you, Elias?" she asked.
"No, I thought I would try to get me drunk, but if you want one, it is easily done," he offered.
"Rum, on the rocks," she told him.
Elias nodded and let Frank know the change of order, then he sat down on the stool next to her. "Did you just get into town?" he asked, nodding to her luggage.
"Oh, um, yes, sort of," she told him.
"Looking for a hotel?"
"No, not right now. A diner would be good. Something open all night? Something close?" she asked.
Elias nodded to himself. Not wanting a hotel was evidence enough that his first appraisal had some merit.
Frank interrupted them by setting down the drinks. Elias laid a twenty on the bar and told Frank to keep the change. Once Frank was gone, Elias mulled over several conversational options, and decided on the cut-the-bullshit trail.
"I'm guessing that you are looking for a place to lay low. Can you tell me how serious your worries are?" he asked.
Her eyes went slightly wide, but she recovered quickly enough. "That obvious, huh?"
"Obvious to anyone who knows what they are looking at, yes, but probably not to most of the people here."
"Are you with the White Wolves?" she asked.
"Yes, I'm an officer. Sergeant at Arms."
"Are you an outlaw group?" she asked.
"Not particularly, no, but some of our members aren't exactly angels," he told her with a grin.
"What about you?"
"Me? I have a few irons in a few fires, but mostly I work for a living."
"Can I ask what you do?"
"Sure, if I can get an answer to my first question—how serious are your worries?"
She searched his eyes, and then took a sip of her rum. "Very."
"Then we should probably get you into a safe place before closing," he offered. "And to answer your question, I trade stocks, have a few rental houses, and paint custom tanks and bike frames. The last is more or less a hobby but I make some coin doing it."
"No drugs?"
"I have been known to partake, but I don't deal if that is what you are asking," he replied. "You hiding from the law?"
"No—well, not really. I just left my boyfriend. But he's a cop. Detective. Narcotics. I lived in Houston, near downtown. He's good at finding people, so I chose this area since I don't have any ties to it at all until I could figure out where to go from here."
"No car?" he asked, and when he saw the question in her eyes, he added, "No headlights through the windows before you came in. So, I'm guessing you are on foot."
She nodded to this and sighed. "You don't miss much do you?"
"Not on a good day, no. So, no car? Or did you decide that would be too easy to track?"
"I left it behind," she told him. Then offered, "Vanity plates."
"Ah." He nodded, and took a long drink from his bottle. "Well, as it happens, I drove my truck here tonight, so I can give you a lift if you would like."
"Where?"
"Well, the best place would be my house. You can sleep in the spare room, get a shower, a meal, and we can talk about the rest in the morning," he offered.
"You don't even know me. Why would you offer that?" she asked warily.
"My mother was on the run with two kids from my father, who was a drunk, an addict, and liked to talk with his fists. If someone would have offered the same to her, she might
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