BooksBarbecue
Back Blood in the Water
Chapters (82)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  4. ONE
  5. TWO
  6. THREE
  7. FOUR
  8. FIVE
  9. SIX
  10. SEVEN
  11. EIGHT
  12. NINE
  13. TEN
  14. ELEVEN
  15. TWELVE
  16. THIRTEEN
  17. FOURTEEN
  18. FIFTEEN
  19. SIXTEEN
  20. SEVENTEEN
  21. EIGHTEEN
  22. NINETEEN
  23. TWENTY
  24. TWENTY-ONE
  25. TWENTY-TWO
  26. TWENTY-THREE
  27. TWENTY-FOUR
  28. TWENTY-FIVE
  29. TWENTY-SIX
  30. TWENTY-SEVEN
  31. TWENTY-EIGHT
  32. TWENTY-NINE
  33. THIRTY
  34. THIRTY-ONE
  35. THIRTY-TWO
  36. THIRTY-THREE
  37. THIRTY-FOUR
  38. THIRTY-FIVE
  39. THIRTY-SIX
  40. THIRTY-SEVEN
  41. THIRTY-EIGHT
  42. THIRTY-NINE
  43. FORTY
  44. FORTY-ONE
  45. FORTY-TWO
  46. FORTY-THREE
  47. FORTY-FOUR
  48. FORTY-FIVE
  49. FORTY-SIX
  50. FORTY-SEVEN
  51. FORTY-EIGHT
  52. FORTY-NINE
  53. FIFTY
  54. FIFTY-ONE
  55. FIFTY-TWO
  56. FIFTY-THREE
  57. FIFTY-FOUR
  58. FIFTY-FIVE
  59. FIFTY-SIX
  60. FIFTY-SEVEN
  61. FIFTY-EIGHT
  62. FIFTY-NINE
  63. SIXTY
  64. SIXTY-ONE
  65. SIXTY-TWO
  66. SIXTY-THREE
  67. SIXTY-FOUR
  68. SIXTY-FIVE
  69. SIXTY-SIX
  70. SIXTY-SEVEN
  71. SIXTY-EIGHT
  72. SIXTY-NINE
  73. SEVENTY
  74. SEVENTY-ONE
  75. SEVENTY-TWO
  76. SEVENTY-THREE
  77. SEVENTY-FOUR
  78. SEVENTY-FIVE
  79. SEVENTY-SIX
  80. Praise for Blood in the Water
  81. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  82. Newsletter Sign-up

She walked into the Colombian restaurant on the narrow corner where Bennington Street intersected with Chelsea Street. The cold wind blew in with her, and everyone in the place turned to look. None of the faces were friendly. They regarded her with suspicion and hostility. She stood there, looking at them. After a moment, they went back to their business, but quietly. There was an interloper among them now, and the talk came in whispers. She could hear numerous languages being spoken, none of them English. Spanish was dominant, but she could hear Vietnamese and Eastern European cadences as well.

A young man approached her. His skin had the tan glow of a South American, and his hair was unruly. He had an elaborate tattoo of a cross on his forehead. A snake wound around the cross as though to strangle it. Two “13”s were incorporated into jewels at the top and the bottom of the cross. His eyes seemed dead as they regarded her.

“In back,” he said to her.

“I sent word, only in a public place,” she responded.

The young man’s eyes turned angry and confused. He started to sputter in Spanish and gesture for her to move to the back of the restaurant, toward a door.

“I said only in public,” she repeated, more forcefully this time. He didn’t speak English, though, and her intransigence was angering him.

He began to push her, and leaned in close to her face as he jabbered at her in Spanish. She whiffed the chemical stench given off by meth addicts, and she could see the gaps in the young man’s mouth where teeth should have been. His voice was raised, and the patrons in the restaurant had grown quiet at the commotion. Steele noticed that none of them looked directly at her. They looked straight down at their drinks and their food, and they refused to acknowledge what was happening.

Her hand was in her bag, touching her gun. The wise move would have been to leave right then. She was still close to the door, and there was no question that she could have been out of the place and speeding away before anyone could react. That was what she should have done.

But she couldn’t bring herself to take the wise path. She’d been promised information, and she couldn’t pass on the possibility that it was a genuine offer. Besides, they would have to be crazy to kill a federal agent, wouldn’t they?

She slipped her hand off her gun and out of her bag as she allowed herself to be pushed toward the door at the back of the restaurant. As she made her way through the tables, not one patron looked up at her.

Something was wrong.