Back To Arms by Athena Braveheart

Author:Athena Braveheart [Braveheart, Athena]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-12-09T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 6

Carson

I should have kissed her.

I’d almost—almost—worked up the courage to do it, too. If I hadn’t had the director trying to get ahold of me, and if I’d had a little more time alone with her, I would have. It was such a romantic location, too, what with special agents, members of the Border Patrol, the cranky medical examiner, and local law enforcement nearby. But in that moment, looking into her eyes, staring at her parting lips, nothing else had existed. It was just her and me in the hot desert together.

But the director had called, Holly had gotten in her car and left, and I spent the rest of the day getting screamed at for my various incompetencies. Director Phillips had a tendency to do that when he was looking for a scapegoat. This afternoon, that unlucky soul was me.

I didn’t resent him for it. Ten bodies in a week were enough to drive anyone crazy, especially when we had such scant evidence to go on. I had this growing sense of dread every time my phone rang. I didn’t know if I could stand another call to come to the border to look at a gruesome crime scene. At least for tonight, I had something else to think about.

The little Mexican-themed bar in downtown Calexico was a fun place to hang out. I’d gone there a few times with Cindy before she left, but she’d never liked it. I knew Holly would though. Little red chili pepper lights lined the ceiling above the bar. Spanish guitar music played in the background. They served margaritas in glasses big enough to be fishbowls. It was my favorite bar.

After making the arrangements for Alicia to stay later with the children, I’d driven straight there from the office. As soon as I walked in and smelled the Mexican spices in the air and heard the bartender’s accented voice, I started feeling better about the day.

I grabbed a seat at the end of the bar, the coziest and darkest spot, where I could see Holly once she came in. The clicks of three men playing pool in the back soothed my mind, and the bartender brought me a big margarita, lime green and rimmed with salt.

That’s when Holly walked in.

I spilled a tiny bit of my drink in my haste to get up from the bar stool, and, cursing softly, I held up my hand toward her. She spotted me and, with a radiant smile, walked over. I was light-headed and tongue-tied.

“Um, have a seat,” I said, pulling out a bar stool. “Glad you could make it.”

“Hey there, Carson. That’s a big margarita you’ve got there.” Just as soon as she’d said it, the bartender appeared with one for her. “Thanks!” she called after him, chuckling.

She picked up her drink and held it out. I clinked glasses with her, and we both sipped, looking at each other over the rims of the glasses.

“Ooh, tart,” she said, licking her lips. “It’s good. I can taste the tequila.

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