Page 30 of Faded Gray Lines

Amanda strolled into the bar from the bathroom, freshly changed from her uniform into a fire-engine red dress cut so low it should’ve been illegal. “Okay, I’m all done with my end of shift duties. I know it’s only your second day, but if you’re sure you don’t mind locking up, I’m going to skip out of here early for my date. I wouldn’t normally do this, but I trust you, and well, look at him.” Turning her phone around, she showed me a picture of a dating site profile. I didn’t have the heart to tell her it was a stock photo from the internet.

“Hot,” I said, forcing a smile.

Her grin widened. “I know.” Tucking her phone in her jacket, she tapped my arm. “And hey, don’t think I didn’t see tall, dark, and saucy follow you into the bathroom yesterday. What’s up with that?”

She wasn’t the only one. Everyone saw it, and every eye followed me as I walked out of that bathroom trying to act like my world hadn’t just collapsed. My cheeks heated remembering Brody’s accusing stares and the chair that sat empty across from him.

“Nothing,” I said, clearing the emotion from my throat. “He just wanted to make sure I was okay. Infection is no joke.” I forced a smile and raised my bandaged hand, wiggling my fingers to distract her.

She pursed her lips and cocked an eyebrow. “How attentive of him. Most of our customers wouldn’t care if we bled from our eyeballs as long as we kept the tap flowing.”

“Mmhmm,” I answered, stacking dirty glasses onto a washing rack. “Nice guy.”

She chuckled, and I saw her shake her head out of the corner of my eye. “Okay, have your secrets. The story I’ll make up in my head is probably better anyway. Later.” Throwing her hand in the air, she waved and disappeared through the kitchen.

The silence felt like an uncomfortable thickness. I couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched, which was stupid because I’d heard Amanda engage the dead bolt on the backdoor when she left.

I was definitely alone.

My thoughts wandered back to yesterday when I’d overheard Emilio on the phone. Obviously, he was involved in something. No surprise there, considering he ran operations for a Mexican cartel. However, it was his remark about the person being in a public office that set the wheels spinning in my head. Whoever he’d been speaking to had a legitimate nine-to-five job with ears in such close proximity it worried him enough to call attention to it.

I stared down the hallway toward his office, my pulse racing with adrenaline, both from fear and exhilaration. Chances like this didn’t come around very often.

It was risky, and probably a very bad idea. However, Emilio rarely left the cantina unattended without one of his men watching over it. Quickly scanning the corners for cameras and seeing none, I moved before I could change my mind. I found it odd that a business owner, especially one who stole for a living himself, wouldn’t expect the same and plan accordingly, but Emilio wasn’t exactly a by-the-book kind of guy.

I wasn’t shocked to find his office locked. An open door would’ve been too easy. Bending down, I assessed the situation and bit back a smile. It was the same kind Mateo dismantled within seconds yesterday. I’d seen him do it countless times in the past, and eventually, watching led to learning.

Etiquette only took you so far. Skill took you everywhere.

Pulling a bobby pin out of my ponytail, I stuck the straight end into the lock. I held my breath while bending the pin and searching for the hook. Just when frustration set in, I heard the telltale click, and the lock released.

Bingo.

Once inside, I wrinkled my nose at both the mess and stench. Being inside was way worse than the glimpse I caught yesterday. The place looked like a rabid animal had been locked inside and then crawled in a corner and died.

“Fucking pig,” I muttered under my breath.

Trying not to touch anything, I got to work. My hands shook as I opened his laptop and hit the power button, my eye twitching as a password enabled screen popped up, denying me entry.

Shit.

Emilio didn’t strike me as the type of man who’d create some intricate password that he’d most likely forget. Chewing on my lip, I typed my first attempt into the blinking box.

E-m-i-l-i-o.

Two words popped up instantaneously: incorrect password.

Ugh. Too easy.

It had to be something that meant something to him. Something that was always on his mind.

C-a-l-i-e-n-t-e.

Incorrect Password again.

Son of a bitch.

Slumping into the chair, I cursed again and scrubbed my palms over my face. This was useless. I could spend all night sitting here typing in random words and none of them would be correct. Who was I kidding? This was a high-ranking cartel member. He wouldn’t use the name of his own bar as his password.