Untouched

Hell, he’d had a wonderful, loving childhood. Even in the course of his work, he hadn’t been subjected to half of what she had, but he didn’t think he could ever go back to ordinary life again. In fact, he knew he couldn’t. Once he’d seen the utter destruction one person could wreak upon another, and even more disturbing, what he himself was capable of, there was no way to work back from that.

The thought distracted him—his situation at the moment was difficult. There were eight messages on his room’s phone, all from his family. Three were from his mother. Anna hadn’t wasted any time getting the word out. They were voices from another lifetime—familiar and foreign all at once, connecting to something deep inside of him he’d thought was gone. But he had no intention of responding, at least not until he knew what was going on with Risa. Just being around his family could put them in danger if Risa were aligning herself with bad people. Daniel would rather risk his family’s ire than their safety.

Levering himself up, he grabbed his keys. He was back on task. Rereading the files reaffirmed his mission, reminding him why he was here. Risa could be a threat. She’d also been a victim, the way he saw it, but he had to push that aside and deal with the facts. If she was a problem, he’d have to take care of it.

It was still light outside, but it would be dark soon enough—the long days of summer weren’t here yet. The air had a nip in it, though his leather jacket was comfortable. He slid into the car, pulling into traffic and heading toward Risa’s apartment complex.

When he got there, he saw Risa getting into a car with Kristy. They were dressed for a night out, Kristy in snug black pants and a tight white top, and Risa in a flirty dress that showed way too much leg as she slipped into the passenger seat. The alarm buzzed in the back of his mind again—she didn’t come off as the antisocial woman he’d been sent to watch. He fell in far enough behind that he couldn’t be spotted, and followed.

“I DON’T SEE HIM.”

Kristy craned her neck, looking all around the Sand Bar, a small local tavern overlooking Cape Cod Bay. The tide was low, and the mud flats stretched out far ahead of them. Some people were walking and a couple of dogs were splashing in puddles of seawater. The picnic tables and outdoor seating were not available; it was early May, but still a little cool in the evenings.

Risa scanned the bar with her. A few patrons had gathered in small groups, talking and sharing plates of greasy-looking food. Risa’s beer sat on the table in front of her; she’d tried it, but she didn’t care for the bitter taste.

Some more people filed in, and another person set the jukebox to playing. It was fascinating to watch, to feel part of the world, though she knew Kristy was growing worried that Ben wasn’t coming. It was almost nine o’clock. Risa tried her hand at comforting Kristy.

“He’s probably just late. Maybe he had to pick someone up?”

“I suppose. Let’s not list punctuality as one of his virtues, then.” Kristy made a valiant effort to turn her attention to Risa and away from the door. “The beer isn’t working for you?”

“Not really.”

Just then, a waitress came up to them and put two colorful-looking drinks on the table.

“We didn’t order these,” Kristy objected.

The waitress nodded over to the corner of the bar with a wink. “Those guys sent them over—said you two should have something more colorful.”

Kristy looked again, and raised her glass to the guys at the table in a measured motion of thanks, before returning her gaze to the door.

“I wish Ben would get here. We’re going to start getting picked up left and right if we’re just sitting here alone.” She sipped her drink and made an appreciative sound in Risa’s direction. “Try this one, it’s a daiquiri—you’ll find it much better than beer, I think. Might as well enjoy them—mixed drinks are expensive.” She grinned, sipping again.

Risa took a tentative sip, and her eyes widened in pleased surprise. “This is good! We should go over and say thank you.” She sipped again.

Kristy shook her head and reached across to place her hand over Risa’s.

“Wow, you really are out of touch, huh? Listen, those guys are way older than us, and they’re only out here looking for one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“You don’t want to know. Smile nicely, but not in the way that invites them over—nod once, then cut eye contact. If they come over, let me handle it.”

Risa shrugged, doing as she was told, enjoying the drink. It was more like a dessert, almost. Better, perhaps, than her beloved chocolate pudding.

“Take it easy—that’s going to go to your head…oh! There he is—he’s here!”

Risa looked up from her drink to see Ben Richter walk into the bar; he was with two other men. They didn’t see her or Kristy, and walked in the other direction toward some empty seats at the bar.

“Crap, he’ll never see me from way over there….”

“You’ll have to arrange a meet,” Risa said conspiratorially, frowning when she saw her drink was almost gone. “But don’t be obvious. Finish your drink, and then go up to get another one. You can get one for me, too.”

She felt great. She couldn’t remember being this relaxed, and it was all to the credit of the frothy pink beverage. She wanted another one, but was willing to wait for Kristy to finish hers.

“Are you okay? You look a little flushed.”

Risa made a pooh-poohing gesture, waving away her friend’s concerns. “I’m fine. Believe me, I know my limist, uh, I mean, limits. They spent years testing them.”

Kristy’s eyebrows shot up as Risa scanned the bar, continuing. “I have a better idea. Let me go get the drinks. It will probably be smoother if I run interference—I’m not interested in him. If you ho, I mean, if you go, he may pick up on something.”

“You think?”

“Absolutely. Believe me, I’m a professional. I’ve done things like this a million times before.”

Kristy looked doubtful, but sat back in her chair.

“Okay. But ask the bartender for your drink to be virgin this time—you don’t need two of these. Trust me. Just get me a Diet Coke. I’m driving, so no more alcohol for me. In fact, order some wings while you’re there.”

Risa’s grin was irrepressible. “Virgin. Ha. And wings. Okay.”

Risa casually inserted herself in an open space at the bar where Ben sat. When the bartender took her order, she decided against Kristy’s advice and just handed the guy her almost empty glass.

“Two more of those. And some wings, please.”

“Hot buffalo, Mexican-lime or honey-garlic?”

“What? Wings. We want some wings, please.” She’d read in a book that service people were often treated rudely, and she made a point to keep her voice polite, but maybe some of that rudeness came from people having to repeat themselves, she figured. The bartender waited, pen in hand.

“I think he wants to know what kind,” Ben Richter interrupted, amused. Risa turned, smiling at him.

“Oh. I never ordered wings before. The Mexican-lines—lime—ones, please.”

Ben stared at her for a long moment. “Don’t I know you?”

“No. Not really. I mean, I live downstairs from you.”

Realization dawned on his face. “Yes! Of course. I didn’t recognize you…you look different.”

“It’s the dress.” She took a little sip of her drink as he looked up and down once, appreciatively.

“A very nice dress, indeed. Are you here alone?”

“Oh, no. My friend Kristy is out with me. She’s helping me get a life.”

Ben’s brow furrowed before he laughed and looked to where she’d indicated Kristy, smiling in recognition, sitting at the table.

“I work with her.”

“Really? You should come join us. Kristy’s great,” she added, feeling like the best new friend in the world. “I’m going back to our table, but come by and say hello.”

“Will do, beautiful.”

Risa smiled, and took a step, stopping to blink and catch her balance. Ben took her elbow.

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