Sorry it's taken so long. Between rehearsals and work and getting sick and doing a market stall and finding out my uncle has cancer I've been pretty flat out. And when I wasn't flat out I was reading. I've actually read two (three?) really good books recently, which hasn't happened in a while. So here is a little chapter to hopefully get back in the swing of things.

Chapter 13

We'd settled into a booth at Pino's and ordered a salad and pizza to share – because he refused to be wholly unhealthy and I refused to just eat rabbit food – when a shiver ran up my spine. At first I thought nothing of it, things like that happen, right? But then it happened again. And again. I started looking around the room, getting the feeling that I was being watched. Being watched was not an unusual occurrence for me, but I usually didn't feel this creeped out. I'd grown accustomed to the Merry Men's eyes on me, so something told me the feeling I was getting wasn't caused by them. I scanned the room briefly, seeing nothing out of the ordinary, but then, I wasn't as adept at it as the Carlos. I did manage to spot Lester in the corner, casually texting on his smart phone, though I knew he had the area in his peripherals despite what it looked like.

"Brodie's here," Carlos murmured beside me. I glanced over, expecting him to be eyeballing the man where he was in the room, but instead his head was down as he typed something into his phone. He hit send and lifted his head to scan the room. "Why would he be here?" he asked. He honestly asked why someone would be at a restaurant, I kid you not.

"To eat I guess," I commented, feeling like I was stating the obvious, given the setting, but unable to think of any other reasons. It's logical. Pino's is the go to place to eat in Trenton and a faithful 'Burg hang out. Anyone Brodie asked would have told him Pino's was the best restaurant in town. There was a healthy serve of grease with each pizza and their subs were made to coat your stomach so your wouldn't be really hungry for days. Their salads were a bit perfunctory, according to Carlos, but he dealt with it for my sake. "Where is he?" I asked my husband, laying a hand on his thigh as he continued texting. It was actually starting to get to me. He hardly ever text, and the fact that he was doing so now, when a potential threat was in the vicinity had me concerned. Not to mention this was a first solo lunch in a good while. It was a relief not to have to deal with the twins and their inability to wait.

Carlos tucked his phone back into his pocket and pressed a kiss to my temple as our food was placed in front of us. "He's still out in the parking lot," he informed me, whispering the words straight into my ear. "Brodie's tail met up with our tail in the side street."

Well, at least that gave us advanced warning to be on guard. I didn't particularly want to be on guard. Brodie seemed like a perfectly normal guy to me. I hadn't gotten any weird vibes from him. Apart from when he'd asked for help with the crossword. Admittedly, that was a bit weird for a first meeting. Even knowing that the crossword was probably meant to indicate me, I had trouble casting him as the bad guy. "What's the plan?" I asked softly, picking up a slice of pizza and almost suppressing my moan as I watched the cheese stretch off the sides still attached to the rest of the circle.

"We invite him to join us," Carlos said simply. "Keep our suspicions under wraps."

Involuntarily, my eyes widened in horror. "I don't have to share my pizza do I?" I asked, aghast.

A small chuckle emitted from his chest. "Never, Babe."

*o*

Brodie had felt ill at ease ever since a buff man in combat-black and mirror glasses had knocked on his hotel room door mid Saturday morning to hand him his father's crossword. It was like he was being watched, but not that casual admiration he'd received in his youth when he'd been lead runner on the track and field team. It was... menacing. He found himself constantly looking over his shoulder, trying to find the eyes that must be practically glued to him, but there was never anyone there looking suspicious. In fact, sometimes there wasn't anyone there at all.

After spending the morning on the terrace of his rented room, trying to nut out some of his father's bizarre clues and getting more and more frustrated with every passing minute – he was a language expert, how was it he couldn't figure them out? – the eyes he felt staring at him began to intensify. He imagined gazes narrowing and scopes on sniper rifles being refocused, like he had unknowingly become some kind of international threat.

It was then that he decided to go out and get some lunch. Maybe he'd do some sight-seeing after, like a regular tourist. The feeling of being watched didn't diminish during the short drive, in fact, when he pulled into the lot of the pizza place the lady at the front desk had suggested it increased further, squeezing at his insides and making his neck itch. Trying to shrug it off as nervousness about being in an unfamiliar country, Brodie slipped from his sleek new rental car and made his way across the lot and into the restaurant.

He'd ordered and was making his way to a table with his drink when he heard his name called out in an American accent. The accent didn't surprise him, given his current location. The fact that someone might be calling out to him did. He'd spent so much of his time either working or staring at the crossword that he hadn't really met anyone over here that would call out to him. There was that Stephanie, with her oddly familiar blue eyes and kind caring nature, but he-

Brodie glanced in the direction of the voice as it called again to find Stephanie waving to him. She was, as always, accompanied by a well build man dressed entirely in black. Designated Drivers, she'd called them. He changed directions and was at her table in an instant, smiling down at her.

"How are ye, Stephanie?" he greeted, thankful for the friendly face in the sea of unfamiliarity.

"Fine," she replied politely. "And you?"

"Oh, you know, gettin' there." Brodie glanced briefly to the man sitting next to her, wondering if he should address the Designated Driver, or if common policy was to act as if he didn't exist. Like butlers.

"This is Carlos," Stephanie indicated the man with a smile. "My husband. Carlos, this is Brodie."

"The crossword guy?" he asked.

Brodie forced a laugh. "That's me."

Stephanie curled her fingers into Carlos's before asking, "Have you gotten any further on that?" Before Brodie had a chance to reply, she added, "Why don't you join us? I'm sure Carlos would love to see if he can help. Do you have it with you?"

See that button? Push it and send me your thoughts, pretty please.