Homefront Defenders by Lisa Phillips

Author:Lisa Phillips
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Love Inspired Suspense
Published: 2017-09-16T04:00:00+00:00

TWELVE

The dining hall was full of people. In one quick overview, Locke spotted a dozen women and a few children, but generally it was men who were sitting in rows eating something that smelled like chili made out of the ham that came in cans. He strode down the aisles, laid out like a school cafeteria. He didn’t draw his weapon and wouldn’t until it became necessary.

The serving window and the last few people getting the scrapings from the giant pots were to his left. At the far left corner was a hall, which the desk guy had told him was where the bathrooms and an exit were located. He scanned every face as he passed, but the noise level in the room was decreasing as people took in the two suited agents clearly searching for someone. They stuck out here, just like they did in most of Hawaii. But these people were in a bad season, out of work, or homeless. Many were veterans, if the jackets and patches and tattoos were anything to go by.

If Brian Wells had been eating earlier, he might’ve finished and left—or gone upstairs to a room where he would spend the night. They were likely going to have to search the whole building, which, with no additional manpower to help, was going to take a while. And it would give Wells plenty of opportunity to give them the slip.

A burly man at Locke’s ten o’clock one row over threw down his spoon and stood. He wiped his hands on a napkin and then tossed it onto his tray.

Before the man could make a move, Locke lifted one hand and strode down the aisle past the guy. “I’m not here for you. I don’t want any trouble, I’m just looking for someone.” He surveyed the ends of the rows of diners. No one moved. No one spoke except a couple of kids in the corner wrestling.

“I don’t see him.” Alana’s voice was softer and had that same lilt the locals spoke with. She probably didn’t hear it, and likewise didn’t know it served to soften the room to the two outsiders. Hawaiians had a slang word for mainlanders, but Locke didn’t remember it until someone muttered it under their breath.

“I don’t see him, either.” Locke scanned the room one more time.

A door swished, and a man emerged at the end of the hall. Damp hands. Brian Wells had been in the bathroom.

He took in the two agents in suits and froze for a second.

“We just want to talk.”

Brian swung around and dashed down the hallway. Locke tore after him and reached the mouth of the hall with Alana on his heels. Brian hit the bar on the door at the far end and raced out the fire exit.

The back alley smelled like the trash that overflowed from a Dumpster pushed against one side of the stucco building. Locke could feel the sweat accumulate as he ran after the former sniper. But they were catching up to the older man with the noticeable limp.

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