Nickel City Storm Warning (Gideon Rimes Book 3) by Gary Ross (i can read books TXT) 📕

will be. The only people allowed in this suite without my say so are here now. No exceptions, not even hotel security. The closet has enough towels. The bathroom cabinet has enough toilet paper and soap to last two weeks. You can bring in food or eat whatever’s in the fridge, but please clean up after yourselves and take your garbage when you leave each day.”

“So much for the luxury suite,” Sam said, which elicited a few chuckles.

“In the car you said something about how we would communicate with each other,” Ramos said. “A closed-circuit system.”

“With earbuds, like you see on TV.” I took one off the monitor table and held it up for everyone to get a look. “We’ll test them in a few minutes. They’re for use whenever we’re outside this suite. We’ll remain in contact with each other and Yvonne and Cissy while we’re in the hotel. Anyone who sees something that looks wrong should cut in immediately and let us all know. When we’re off-site, like at a library or a bookstore, Yvonne and Cissy will be out of the mix but they’ll still be monitoring things here and will contact me or Pete by cell phone if there’s anything we should know. When Ms. Wingard is speaking, her earbud power pack will be off. Any report of a potential threat puts responsibility for her safety on the person closest to her at that moment. Any questions?”

Bishop nodded. “Can I order my vest now? If you give me a website, Mr. Rimes, I’ll use my phone.”

“I’ll call my mom,” Ramos said.

“You can log in on my laptop when we’re done,” I said. “It’s on the lamp table by the sofa. Anything else?”

Drea raised her hand slowly. “G—and I’m beginning to think that means General, not Gideon—I’m hungry. I know we’re having dinner with some bigwigs tonight but I can’t wait that long. Nobody knows I’m here yet so I’d like to go someplace to eat and see a few things. Is that possible, or will you keep me prisoner here?”

“Only if you refuse to let Bishop help you dress for the field trip.”

18

We spent the afternoon at Canalside.

It was a hot day, cloudless and bright enough to darken my transition lenses rapidly. We left the earbuds at the hotel because we would remain together on this outing. We moved in a casual group, Sam and Drea at the center, with Bishop, Ramos, Pete, and me serving as flexible compass points. Bishop and Ramos happily complied with my suggestion they tie their company windbreakers around their waists. Pete and I kept on our jackets to hide our shoulder holsters. Drea had to be as clammy in her body armor as we were in ours.

At Drea’s request, our first stop was the row of idling food trucks past the Metro Rail tracks, five mobile kitchens in five different colors. The yellow truck belonged to The Cheesy Chick, which specialized in creative takes on grilled cheese. The Organic Hispanic truck was green, its menu listing healthy tacos and burritos. Dogberry’s Hot Dogs was blue and Kit’s Kabobs was black. Middle Sister Sandwiches was a red banh mi shop on wheels.

“There are restaurants where we can sit inside,” I said to Drea. “With AC.”

She shook her head. “I spend too much time inside. I need the sun to remind me I’m not Dracula’s daughter.”

“Liberty Hound has a terrace beside the battleships.” I pointed to the restaurant on the other side of the Commercial Slip. “It also has amazing truffle fries.”

“I’d rather walk and take in everything before my time gets crazy with reporters and cameras and book lines.” She squeezed her eyes shut for a few seconds and drew in a long breath through her nose. “Look, try to see this through my eyes. The world spins forward but every time I go somewhere I have to relive the worst night of my life. I don’t get to heal.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“I don’t mean to be a pain in the ass but if what happened to my husband and me means anything, I have to relive it and take listeners with me. It’s the only way I can make people understand and rise up for change.”

“Maybe I’m overcautious but I can protect you better in a closed environment.”

“I know, I know.” She stepped away from Sam and hooked her arm through mine. “I do appreciate how you do your job. But even a few minutes among people who are happy and light and normal can help me go on.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “And nobody knows I’m here yet. Right?”

Except some of the conference organizers. I kept that thought to myself and looked into her eyes. “Okay. If right here is what you want, right here is what you get.” I turned to the others, who had all been close enough to hear our exchange. “You need food you can hold in one hand and bottled water so you can stick it in a pocket.”

“General is right,” Sam said, laughing. “Now he’s telling us what to eat! This boy is giving orders like he’s Colin goddam Powell.”

“It doesn’t include you and Drea,” I said to Sam. “We need at least one hand free.”

Drea smiled up at me. “So you can look like a Black Dirty Harry, hot dog in one hand and a gun in the other. Even got the sunglasses.”

“The faster you choose your food,” I said, releasing her arm, “the sooner we can get moving.”

Drea reached into the purse hanging from her shoulder. After a moment of fumbling around, she produced a fifty and a handful of smaller bills. “Lunch is on me. An inadequate but sincere thanks to all of you. Anything you want.”

“I guess I feel like a dog with everything on it,” Bishop said.

“Ice coffee from the Bean Bastard stand over there means no free hand.” Ramos sighed and turned back to the food trucks. “Bottled water it is then. What’s