CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I couldn’t remember the last time I was out on a date. The old “captain” used to draw a lot more attention with its metal hook when I was out in public. Nowadays people hardly noticed; so many veterans were back with one less limb, it had become commonplace.
But she stared, unabashedly, sizing me up, spinning her empty glass of scotch between her hands. Rolling her neck on her shoulders like she had bucked hay all day, her glance skittishly flitting to the front door and back to me.
It was my former job to study human behavior, to be vigilant and notice the small things that were giveaways to what someone was really thinking. And this little girl, now that she had me live and in person in front of her instead of on a screen, was anxious as hell.
This bar was a honky-to
