Read Online (The Push Chronicles (Book 2): Indefatigable by J.B. Garner - Free Book Online
Authors: J.B. Garner
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frown. The bald-headed detective turned back to the room in general.
"Hate to say it, but there's only three possible candidates. Me, Rachel, and Indy."
"You two in the literal vampire's den?" I gave the pair a frank look. "I know you aren't glass sculptures but -"
"Exactly, Indy," Rachel confirmed. "This is still technically an information-gathering assignment. The more trained eyes in the building, the better."
"Don't worry," Duane said, "we'll make an exit stage right the moment things seem fishy. The FBI didn't train us to be heroes; it trained us to be cops." The unspoken vibe they gave off, though, was that they were both worried about me being on my own. When did I ever give anyone in this room reason to doubt me? I wasn't sure, but maybe I just looked worse than I thought I did.
"Okay," I relented. "You're right." I wiped at my brow again. I had to get myself together and focused. I thought to myself that familiar mantra: 'Lives are at stake'. Stupidly and irrationally, it seemed to help.
"That's settled then," Ex said. "What's left is to figure out the observation assignments. Huddle up, people." He paused a moment, then looked at Archer, who had remained hesitant. "Yes, you too, Robin Hood. Indy's right, we're all in on this together."
At least that was one thing I had gotten right this afternoon.
"When you said this was a dive, you weren't kidding, Rachel," I whispered as I sat down at the bar. I was starting to feel better than I had, but the pain was still there, coming in fits and flare-ups. Paul's Pub had certainly seen better days. A few generations ago it might have been a very respectable neighborhood watering hole. You could see glimpses of old glories: framed photographs of Atlanta luminaries yellowed with age, the battered but still exquisite carving on the wooden bar, and the lingering, rich smell of hard woods and fragrant liquors.
It was the more recent decorations that brought the atmosphere down. Cheap electronic gambling machines lined one wall where a second bar had once been, blocking the window to the street. Blue aluminum box fans had been jammed into what few free windows remained instead of a renovated air conditioning system. I won't even get started on the more discreet but still patently obvious neo-Nazi and Ku Klux Klan logos, photos, and memorabilia. The South will rise again? Seriously?
"I was not," Rachel replied in my earbud. "Duane astutely noted that his appearance will cause the most stir, so I will be entering next in about five minutes."
"I'll be in about thirty after that," Brooks added. "That should give you guys time to scope things out before the rednecks start to throw bottles at the black man." Extinguisher added a grunt of sympathy to Brooks' statement.
"Understood." I flashed a smile at the bartender. From the description, that certainly wasn't Paul. "Can I get a beer please?"
"Anything for a pretty lady like yew," he smiled toothily. As he slid down the bar to pour, there was a twist in my gut. It hadn't been there a moment ago, but now the churning ripple of Push energy had come to life and it was growing rapidly.
The bartender set the glass of beer in front of me with a loud clank, sending froth splattering on the bar. There was a faint reddish tint in the amber liquid.
"Hey," I said, pointing at the glass, "I think there's something in the beer." The barkeep, who hadn't moved, kept the same smile plastered on his face.
"It's a house specialty," he noted. "Drink up, it's good fer yew." I glanced sidelong at what little window wasn't covered in poster or blocked by furniture. What little creeping sunlight remained was gone.
"You know, on second thought," I smiled disarmingly, "I forgot I was supposed to meet a friend uptown so let me just -"
Big And Ugly moved to grab me by both wrists before I could stand. I think he was about to bring out the old hackneyed 'You're
"Hate to say it, but there's only three possible candidates. Me, Rachel, and Indy."
"You two in the literal vampire's den?" I gave the pair a frank look. "I know you aren't glass sculptures but -"
"Exactly, Indy," Rachel confirmed. "This is still technically an information-gathering assignment. The more trained eyes in the building, the better."
"Don't worry," Duane said, "we'll make an exit stage right the moment things seem fishy. The FBI didn't train us to be heroes; it trained us to be cops." The unspoken vibe they gave off, though, was that they were both worried about me being on my own. When did I ever give anyone in this room reason to doubt me? I wasn't sure, but maybe I just looked worse than I thought I did.
"Okay," I relented. "You're right." I wiped at my brow again. I had to get myself together and focused. I thought to myself that familiar mantra: 'Lives are at stake'. Stupidly and irrationally, it seemed to help.
"That's settled then," Ex said. "What's left is to figure out the observation assignments. Huddle up, people." He paused a moment, then looked at Archer, who had remained hesitant. "Yes, you too, Robin Hood. Indy's right, we're all in on this together."
At least that was one thing I had gotten right this afternoon.
"When you said this was a dive, you weren't kidding, Rachel," I whispered as I sat down at the bar. I was starting to feel better than I had, but the pain was still there, coming in fits and flare-ups. Paul's Pub had certainly seen better days. A few generations ago it might have been a very respectable neighborhood watering hole. You could see glimpses of old glories: framed photographs of Atlanta luminaries yellowed with age, the battered but still exquisite carving on the wooden bar, and the lingering, rich smell of hard woods and fragrant liquors.
It was the more recent decorations that brought the atmosphere down. Cheap electronic gambling machines lined one wall where a second bar had once been, blocking the window to the street. Blue aluminum box fans had been jammed into what few free windows remained instead of a renovated air conditioning system. I won't even get started on the more discreet but still patently obvious neo-Nazi and Ku Klux Klan logos, photos, and memorabilia. The South will rise again? Seriously?
"I was not," Rachel replied in my earbud. "Duane astutely noted that his appearance will cause the most stir, so I will be entering next in about five minutes."
"I'll be in about thirty after that," Brooks added. "That should give you guys time to scope things out before the rednecks start to throw bottles at the black man." Extinguisher added a grunt of sympathy to Brooks' statement.
"Understood." I flashed a smile at the bartender. From the description, that certainly wasn't Paul. "Can I get a beer please?"
"Anything for a pretty lady like yew," he smiled toothily. As he slid down the bar to pour, there was a twist in my gut. It hadn't been there a moment ago, but now the churning ripple of Push energy had come to life and it was growing rapidly.
The bartender set the glass of beer in front of me with a loud clank, sending froth splattering on the bar. There was a faint reddish tint in the amber liquid.
"Hey," I said, pointing at the glass, "I think there's something in the beer." The barkeep, who hadn't moved, kept the same smile plastered on his face.
"It's a house specialty," he noted. "Drink up, it's good fer yew." I glanced sidelong at what little window wasn't covered in poster or blocked by furniture. What little creeping sunlight remained was gone.
"You know, on second thought," I smiled disarmingly, "I forgot I was supposed to meet a friend uptown so let me just -"
Big And Ugly moved to grab me by both wrists before I could stand. I think he was about to bring out the old hackneyed 'You're
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