Timeless Beginnings by Amber Daulton

Author:Amber Daulton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: time travel romance series, 1960's romance, romance series
Publisher: Books to Go Now
Published: 2018-05-14T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Five

Rodger patted the 1911 Colt in the waistband of his slacks. His coat hid the weapon from prying eyes and he wondered what Leonora would’ve said if she found it. He always kept it on his person, under his pillow as he slept or folded into a towel as he showered. Just in case. A few months after he arrived in Santa Cruz, two men tried to mug him in an alley but he won the fight with just his fists and fighting skills. He always saved his gun as a last resort.

Urine reeked along the outside wall of a shady bar. A few drunks panhandled near the entry as Rodger headed inside. Dim lamps, candles and the roaring fire in a stone hearth cut back the chill and illuminated the small drink hall in a dull glow. The bartender, a big man with frizzy hair and a moustache, cleaned the worn countertop of the bar and candlelight glinted off the bottles of liquor stored behind it on a tiered shelf. A beaded curtain blocked a doorway on the far wall and Rodger knew better than to enter the private back section without an invitation.

People shouted, drank and played cards. Two waitresses carried drinks to various tables. Cigarette smoke, the sweet scent of coca leaves and body odor permeated Rodger’s nostrils. The noise level pierced his eardrums. He skirted around a small group of men, careful to avoid the two spitting drunks as they arm-wrestled, presumably for the stack of colorful paper money laid flat on the table, and a few members of their entourage cocked their heads at him as though to tell Rodger to hurry on.

Relief hit him once he spotted José at a back corner table. He made countless friends and acquaintances during his two-year stint, people from all walks of life, and reported the names of the communists among them to his CIA superiors.

Most of the names anyhow.

“Hola, José,” he called as he approached one of the only private areas in the main part of the hall. A half wall with wood pegs that reached to the ceiling boxed in the square table and four sturdy chairs. Rodger tilted his head to peek under the table as a woman bobbed her head on José’s crotch. “Am I interrupting, amigo?”

José wore casual Western clothes and his wiry black hair poked out beneath his authentic Bolero hat. “Ah, my favorite gringo. How are you, Rodger? Sit down.” He spoke in decent thickly-accented English as most of the other patrons in the bar chatted away in Spanish and various native dialects. He gave Rodger a toothy smile. “Ignore my lady. She’s almost done.”

Rodger crossed his arms as layers of frilly fabric shifted under the tabletop and the woman’s head bobbed faster. “We need to talk business, José. Alone.”

José’s grin dimmed even as he indulged in a long moan. Then he laughed and sat up from his slouch. The raven-haired beauty hurried to her feet and frowned at José as he held several bills in his hand.

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