Read Online Down to the Wire by Shannon Greenland - Free Book Online Page A

sat down. Now an elderly woman sat to the right and a businessman occupied the table straight ahead.
    “Hot chick to the left,” Wirenut mumbled.
    I glanced over. A sunbeam lit the wrought-iron table where “hot chick” sat alone. She wore a long, gauzy, white skirt, and her straight black hair hung halfway down her back. It blew with the wind, and she held it out of her way while talking with the waitress.
    Wirenut was right. “Hot chick” was beautiful. With her dark skin and gorgeous smile, she and the waitress could be sisters. Or maybe mother and daughter.
    “Hot chick” laughed again. She and the waitress exchanged a few more words in Rissalan, then, carrying her tray, the waitress meandered back over to us. She put our plates and coffees down then pointed to our water glasses. “ Nusi? ” More?
    “ Pu vjepl vua ,” Wirenut replied. No, thank you.
    We both dove in, forking up big bites of the food Wirenut had ordered us. Fried pork, eggs, and spicy rice. Why didn’t they feed us stuff like this at the ranch?
    I paused in stuffing my face to take a sip of my iced coffee.
    “Please tell me I didn’t look like a starving hyena just now.”
    “Huh?” I glanced over at Wirenut. He was staring at the girl as she stared back at him.
    She smiled. “ Jimmu. ” Hello.
    Wirenut cleared his throat and took a sip. “Don’t screw this up,” he mumbled to himself. “Play it cool.” He sent her a small wave. “ Jimmu. ”
    “ Enisodep? ” American?
    “ Ztt. ” Yes.
    “I speak English,” she said.
    Wirenut smiled, obviously relieved. I mean, how much would that suck? Trying to communicate in Rissalan with somebody you liked. Hello. Yes. Please. Where’s the bathroom? That conversation would last all of one minute.
    “My name is Katarina.”
    I loved her melodic accent.
    “Stan,” he introduced, using our fake names. “And this is my friend , Dana.”
    I caught his emphasis on the word friend , making sure “hot chick” knew I wasn’t his girl friend. “Hi.”
    Wirenut took another bite, chewed. “Ask her a question,” he mumbled to me without moving his lips.
    Ask her a question? Was he kidding? Conversation was not my strong point. I dug around in my head. How old are you? Where do you go to school? Come here often? I nearly laughed at the last one. It sounded like a corny pickup line. And Wirenut was the one picking her up, not me.
    “Live around here?” he asked before I had a chance to open my mouth. He shot me a forget-it look.
    I shrugged and went back to my food.
    She nodded. “On a boat on the canal.”
    A boat? Neat.
    The waitress crossed in front of us. She placed a bowl of fruit on Katarina’s table. While they talked, we finished our breakfast.
    They shared a laugh, and the waitress looked over her shoulder at us.
    “Great. They’re talking about us.” Wirenut wiped his mouth.
    “Hush,” I whispered. “They’re not talking about us.” I thought I was the only one who obsessed about stuff like that.
    He propped his feet on the chair beside me. The waitress left Katarina’s table, and Wirenut did not hesitate to continue the conversation. “Do you go to school around here?”
    “I’m taught at home.”
    “You mean on the boat?”
    She nodded.
    “How old are you?”
    Katarina cut a chunk of melon in half. “Sixteen. How old are you?”
    “Seventeen.”
    In my peripheral vision a man stopped in front of the museum. Sipping my iced coffee, I studied him. He was the first to show. Must be the manager. I peeked at my watch. 7:05 A.M. Museum opened at 8:00 A.M.
    “How long are you here for?” She bit into her melon.
    “About a week.” Wirenut touched the screw on the right side of his sunglasses, holding his finger there for a count of three. It activated the built-in cameras.
    Smooth. I wasn’t even sure he’d seen the man. I clicked my watch head twice counterclockwise, engaging the microchip recorder. His glasses contained the same recorder. Mine served as a