Tempest - Kris Michaels Page 0,19

were a multitude of blondes, but none were Pilar. He weaved through the tables heading back to the furthermost seating area before he saw her at the very back at a table by herself.

His faltering steps could be attributed to the crowd and the jumble of tables, but his pause was due to the woman herself. She was everything he remembered and so much more. He forced his eyes from her when all he wanted to do was stare. A lump formed in his throat. He turned away from where she was sitting.

My God. His heart hammered in his chest faster than when he'd completed his physical fitness test at the Rose. The grip he had on the damn tray was the only thing keeping his hands from shaking. Fucking hell, man up. With grit and determination, he stood calmly and looked around the seating area. His emotional response contained; he sent another searching look across the filled tables. He meandered and weaved through the tables before he stopped by hers, turning to peer at the sea of people as if he was looking for a seat.

"Are you looking for a seat?" That voice. Husky with a hint of velvet. He closed his eyes for a moment before he turned around.

Her eyes widened but she schooled her features quickly. "Please, I'm almost done." She pointed to the vacant chair across from her.

He sat down and proceeded to unwrap his food. "Thank you." He looked at her and ducked his eyes again. "For everything."

She picked up her drink and swirled it in her hand, taking a final sip. "I'm glad you're alive. Under my tray." She stood and slung her purse onto her shoulder before she weaved through the crowd.

There was half a sandwich left on her tray which gave him plausible deniability when the harried busgirl tried to clear the tray. "My friend will be back."

The woman headed to another table without so much as a pause. His back to the wall, he slowly ate his food as he watched the crowd. There were a few people who could be watching him. He made a show of pulling his phone from his pocket and instead of reading he used the camera to capture pictures of the three men and one woman who didn't sit well with him. His training had taught him to trust those feelings. Two of the men left together. Quick glances at their watches sent them scurrying. The woman gave him lingering, appraising, glances. He wasn't going to dismiss her... yet. The third man finally stood and waved toward the front of the deli, his cheap suit jacket hiking up as he waved. Ah... a gold shield. A police officer. His demeanor was what had tweaked him about the man. He glanced back toward the woman in time to see her empty her tray and make her way from the building, the sway of her hips turning heads as she departed.

He finished his food and waited as the multitude started to thin. There was nothing out of the ordinary, nothing which caught his attention or raised concern. He finally stood, palmed the envelope from under Pilar’s tray, and exited the deli.

The office buildings which had emptied to fill the restaurant once again became millstones and the afternoon work hours commenced. Warm breezes fanned palm fronds in the courtyard. Tempest shoved his hand in his pocket and covered the envelope. He headed back to his safe house. It took two hours via a circular route, including a stop at the grocery store and a filling station to make sure he wasn't being trailed.

The amount of traffic was insane. When he'd grown up in the area, Federal Highway and A1A were quiet stretches of road meandering between the cities along the coast. Now, condominiums sprouted up in the medians between the highways' lanes. Those spaces used to hold gas stations, small donut shops, and believe it or not, grass. Grass was missing from this portion of the world, at least the land west of A1A. Everything close to the beach was built up. The mega-rich had snagged the ocean front property. The rich had purchased the land on both sides of the intercoastal waterway and the middle class and poorer residents had been pushed west, past I-95 into the sweltering heat which didn't benefit from a coastal breeze.

He drove down a small road off of A1A and made his way back to a 1960's ranch style house at the