Kiss Across Chaos (Kiss Across Time #10) - Tracy Cooper-Posey Page 0,20
where he is. We’ll stick to your back. There’ll be pickpockets and drunks wanting to dance or more. Alannah, all you have to do is not get waylaid. Stick with Marit and me, okay?” With her twenty-first century L.A. party clothes, Alannah would draw attention. So would her height and her high cheekbones.
Marit would draw a different sort of attention. She looked fit and healthy and fresh.
This was going to be…interesting.
“When you’re ready, Marit,” Jesse said, mentally rolling up her sleeves. She wished she had her Glock, just for a tiny fraction of a second, but that was the old instincts bellowing at her.
One could get by without a gun, if they had to. Who had told her that?
Marit headed down the alley, with the two of them following her. At the end, they had to squirm and ease their way through a crush of bodies. With the parade passing right in front of them, everyone who had been dancing and drinking on the street had been pushed back to the sides.
Marit turned and worked her way onto the verandah of the building that had formed one side of the alley. There were just as many people on here, too, pushing back against the clapboard and straining to see over heads.
Jesse kept Marit’s bare shoulders and the thick red curls rolling down her back in her sights, while tracking Alannah’s movements beside her. When Alannah fell back, she gripped her arm and hauled her forward.
At the same time, Jesse’s instincts strained outward, looking for unnatural or wrong motions, searching all the friendlies for the unfriendly face. Looking for danger.
There was too much movement here. Too much noise. Despite their casual clothing, they all looked out of place because they weren’t carrying drinks or wearing beads or a mask.
Or smiling.
Plus, they were back in time. It was only a couple of decades, but it was still not their time. All the stories Jesse had heard over the years about disasters that arrived without warning, of how fast things could go wrong, pressed in on her like a heavy cloud.
“Put your phone away, Alannah!” she shouted, when Alannah peered at her phone and shook it, with a vexed expression. Twenty years ago, cellphones had not been common. She reached over and plucked the phone out her hands and shoved it into Alannah’s pocket.
Alannah looked guilty. “Sorry!”
They pushed on, heading for the end of the verandah. Marit veered right before they reached it, heading for the interior of the building.
The front façade of the building was brick. At this end of the building, three wide doorways had their French doors pulled back and folded out of the way. There was more light and movement inside, but not nearly as much as out here. The stench of alcohol and pot and sweat was strong. Jesse couldn’t figure out if it was coming from inside, or from the people around them.
Both, probably.
Marit struggled to push through the jammed people who had clearly moved out of the building to watch the parade go by. She stumbled through them into the room beyond, which was devoid of people.
Jesse drove through the same space, bringing Alannah with her. They wiggled through the last of the crowd on the verandah and stepped into the room. Jesse drew in a deep breath, not relaxing, not yet, but pleased to be where she had elbow room.
She moved up behind Marit, who scanned the room.
It was a bar, with round tables and old French café style chairs, and a pocket-sized stage at the far end, with music stands and microphones. No musicians right now. They couldn’t compete with the thunderous noise on the street.
The bar was to the left, starting in the corner and running down the side of the room.
Most of the tables were empty, the customers out on the verandah, but not all of them.
Marit pointed. The table she pointed at was in the corner. Two men sat—although only one was doing a good job of actually sitting. The other propped himself up on both elbows, his head sinking lower even as they watched.
It was Aran.
“Shit, we came all this way for a binge session?” Alannah said, sounding disgusted. She had to raise her voice for them to hear her.
Jesse caught Marit’s shoulder and spoke loudly. “We’ve seen him. He’s alive—”
“If you want to call it that,” Marit said back.
“Let him pickle his brain,” Jesse said urgently. “Let’s go before he sees us.”