Read Online Terror Stash by Tracy Cooper-Posey - Free Book Online

the breast bone creak.
    There was an alertness about him that she usually only encountered in people whose bodies supported their profession—soldiers, law enforcement and the odd State department clerk she’d met that she’d later confirmed was actually working for one of the intelligence units. Some of the world-class surfers and windsurfers she’d met here in Margaret River had the same quality.
    So had Vinnie, although that wasn’t something she had realized until many years after Khafji.
    Montana swallowed and tried to draw more than a shallow breath. Her heart was thundering in her ears. She watched the man’s gaze swing around the room and guessed he was looking for more than a place to sit or people he knew. “Who is he?” she asked Jacko and was pleased when her voice emerged evenly.
    Jacko gingerly lowered his jeans back over his shin. “His name is Rawn, I think.”
    “Caden Rawn,” Bruce said, curling his lip. “He’s an ugly bastard. He beat the crap out of some guy a couple of years ago, god knows why. I heard the police arrested him.”
    “Not that one,” Jacko said with cool certainty. “I think he’d leave the country before he’d let himself be arrested.”
    “You know him?” she asked, watching Rawn. The man’s expression was distant and hard and she suddenly shivered.
    Jacko shook his head. “Don’t want to. There’s stories about him. He’s bad news.”
    Montana turned back to her computer, but kept her angled position on the bench so she could glance out of the corner of her eye. She pushed at her chest again, wondering what on earth had got into her. She had never experienced such a strong reaction to someone simply stepping into a room, especially a stranger.
    She found her gaze drawing back to him again. The man strolled up to the bar, digging into his pocket.
    The barmaid saw his approach and instead of dropping the glass she was drying and moving to the bar to take his order, she backed up a step or two until her shoulder bumped into her boss’s chest. She looked up at him, spoke a word or two and shook her head emphatically. Twice. Then she handed him the tea towel and hurried to the door marked with a hand-written ‘office’ sign and shut herself in.
    The manager stepped up to the bar and jerked his chin in a “what will you have?” manner.
    “Hey, Montana, I hear you’re looking for me.”
    Reluctantly, Montana pulled her attention around to the other side of the long table. Rabbit stood at the far corner, in a silk shirt and dress pants. Anyone else in those clothes would have looked out of place in a joint like this but Rabbit seemed to fit. The silver jewelry in his ears and nose helped. So did the tattoo on his neck—a writhing dragon that clawed its way up to his jawbone. He smiled at Montana, showing crooked, broken yellow teeth.
    “Hello, Rabbit,” she acknowledged. “Was I looking for you?”
    Rabbit tapped Greg’s shoulder and Greg immediately climbed off the bench and made room for him. Rabbit settled in his place and carefully placed his bottle of beer down. Unlike the other beer drinkers here, he wasn’t drinking pub draught out of a glass or even one of the labeled beers in a stubby. He had a full-sized dark brown bottle of Emu Bitter.
    He smiled at her again. “Bruce said you were looking for me.”
    She looked at Bruce for clarification, but he shot her a sideways glance and pretended he was in deep conversation with the flower-children people further along the table. No help there.
    Then she put it together and her jaw descended a little before she snapped it shut again. She stared at Rabbit. “ You’re Stewart Connie?”
    His grin broadened, displaying missing molars and old silver amalgam fillings that were black with age and abuse. “At your service.”
    “I’ve only ever known you as Rabbit,” she said apologetically.
    Jacko snorted a little and shook his head, half-smiling. “Stewart Connie. Connie. Coney . Rabbit. Stewart, stew .