Thin Line by L.T. Ryan Read Free Book Online

use a guy like you. Him, too."
    Bear chuckled as he turned toward the bar. Clarissa met him on the other side. He asked her for an update on his steak. The place smelled of seared meat.
    It was killing the big guy.
    Frigid air and wafts of snow knifed through the establishment as the door closed in the wake of the men. With Charles and his guys gone, there were only
    two other groups of people remaining. They did their best to ignore me as I looked over them. In time, they'd get up and make their way out, too, with as
    little disturbance as possible. People hate conflict, and hate being around those likely to cause it.
    "Why are you getting involved with a guy like Charles?" Clarissa asked.
    I swung my right leg over the bar stool and sat down. "Money sounds good."
    "You realize the things they're into? You'll have every agent you used to work with camping out in your hallway, waiting to bust you two idiots."
    Apparently she'd cooled off. Her concern seemed genuine.
    I said, "We aren't considering doing anything with Charles, or his boss. That's not our gig. You know that. He approached me just now. And you saw how that
    turned out."
    "All I know is what you tell me, and there are times I don't think your words are grounded in the reality that most of us share."
    "I tell you everything I'm allowed to, Clarissa. If that's not good enough, then I don't know where to point you for better explanations."
    "Don't patronize me." She poured me another drink, then exited through the kitchen door. It flapped in and out, sending wave after wave of wood-smoke-laden
    air in our direction.
    The hum from the television blended with the sounds of conversation from the tables behind us. The white noise provided welcome respite.
    After a few minutes, Bear said, "You think that Charles guy is gonna take this personally?"
    I shrugged. "I suppose, but frankly, I don't care, man. We've got a bigger problem. Presumably one that can inflict more harm on us than Charles."
    "What about the guy he works for?"
    "Taylor?"
    Bear shook his head. "Charles."
    "Don't know too much about him. No one does. Goes by the moniker of Old Man to most. Runs his organization from the dark. Into a lot of things, from what I
    gather. Some of which crosses paths with our line of work. I've heard of a few politicians having dealings with him. Maybe a person or two in the
    Pentagon."
    "Really?"
    I shrugged again. "That's what I hear."
    "Sounds like the pay's better."
    "You considering it?"
    "Thin line, right? Maybe money is what makes it fade."
    I had to smile after Bear sprang the comment back on me. But before I could mount a response, Clarissa emerged from the kitchen carrying two plates loaded
    with meat and vegetables. She set them down in front of us, disappeared into the kitchen again, then returned with a rack of glass mugs.
    "We're shutting down in thirty," she said on her way past us. "Order up if you want anything else."
    I got up and joined her at the other end of the bar. A risky move, considering Bear had already devoured half his meal.
    "We all right?" I said.
    "No, Jack, we aren't."
    "Look, I told you we were up here on business. If it weren't for this storm, we'd have been gone by now."
    Clarissa said nothing. She flipped each mug in her hand and slid them upside down on the rack perched over the bar.
    "Why don't you come back to the apartment with us?" I said. "It's closer than your place. The streets are a mess. Not many cabs running."
    "I've got no interest in hanging out with you two drunks tonight in that matchbox you call an apartment."
    "Clarissa-"
    "It's time to quit playing dress-up." She looked up and set the hand towel she'd been drying the glasses with on the counter between us. "You're great,
    Jack, but together, we're not."
    I reached for the towel and said nothing.
    She turned and made her way toward the kitchen, stopping to pour the final round of drinks before pushing through the door that divided us. The door
    thumped against the frame with