Two weeks passed since Thorne dined with Jeannie. His plan to avoid contact with her in the hopes she would seek him out, failed. He hadn't seen her outside her apartment or on campus. Only in her living room and kitchen where Quentin and Dalton had set up the surveillance equipment.
They'd asked Thorne afterward why he didn't want to install cameras in Jeannie's bedroom. He'd replied that he was on a mission to observe, not to become a voyeur. Quentin had laughed until Thorne silenced him with an angry look.
Thorne entered the crowded bar. The smell of beer and roasted peanuts greeted him like a long-lost friend. He took in the atmosphere, breathing deeply. The place was filled with half-drunk Uni students, laughing and talking and having a good time. Thorne congratulated himself on finding the perfect place to lose himself for a while. He used the noise and laughter from the strangers as a balm to his troubled soul.
When Thorne's work slowed, or he was by himself for too long, his past infiltrated his mind. He would blank out until something or someone called for his attention. Tonight, he needed company. He didn't want to go back to his empty apartment alone. There were too many ghosts waiting for him there.
Thorne sat on a bar stool, close to the server station. He'd received several admiring glances so far, but he only returned those from the bartender. Thorne liked a variety of women, but tonight, he wanted the total opposite of his neighbor. The woman behind the bar fit the bill. She was older, her laugh creasing when she smiled. Her straight, blond hair, gathered in a girlish ponytail, pranced every time she bent down or shoveled ice into a glass. She reminded him of a ballerina, small in stature, full of energy. She flitted from one customer to next under the dim recessed lights like a butterfly from flower to flower, always coming back to Thorne for a little chit-chat. She was nothing like his shy, retiring neighbor with dark skin, dangerous curves, and beautiful brown eyes.
Wanting to keep his wits about him, Thorne switched to San Pellegrino after the first beer. When the jukebox in the corner played a popular country and western song, the bartender had laughed when Thorne sang the chorus in a rich baritone, stressing his Southern accent.
When he finished, however, her eyes turned misty. After a little cajoling, she told him about her recent breakup. Thorne wasn't above using that intel to reel her in, but her winks and bright smiles made it unlikely he would need it.
After their heart-to-heart, she served the imported water for free. He accepted each one with a gracious smile. When it got late, Thorne timed his departure for maximum effect.
He slid from the stool. Her eyes followed his every move as he stretched, pulling at his stiff muscles. He said he needed to get home. It had been a long day.
Her face fell and her smile vanished like the sun behind a cloud. The smooth lines on her forehead popped out even as her lips folded inward. She asked him to stay a little longer. Her shift was ending in fifteen minutes. Could he wait?
Thorne smiled, happy to oblige.
She cleaned her station, hurriedly serving her customer's needs. In her haste, she dropped limes, spilled lemons, and sloshed drinks. Thorne grinned at her nervousness, relishing the anticipation of his release.
While Thorne waited, he texted Dalton for a progress update, wanting to check his immunity against the mark. Dalton sent a video of Jeannie reading her favorite book on her couch, wrapped in a green blanket the color of Thorne's eyes. On the cover was a lookalike Thorne. The character was bare-chested and wore an above the knee sarong made of fur and held a massive sword aloft.
His neighbor had been reading the same book for weeks. The cover so worn, the back was coming off.
Thorne's curiosity had gotten the better of him, and one day, he'd sneaked into the Jeannie's apartment to check what the book was about. Thorne's face had flamed red as he read every page with a folded corner. All of them contained steamy love scenes.
Thorne cursed softly before taking a sip of his drink. Thinking about the mark reading those passages in her bedroom had made the red blood in his veins rush to one spot. He squirmed in discomfort.
From the feelings of lust which stirred inside him, he was still vulnerable. Thorne beat back his feelings by drawing his mouth down in a frown and pushing the image of his neighbor to the deep recesses of his mind. Irritated, he switched off his phone and stuffed it into the inner pocket of his leather jacket, vowing to think of the mark no more.
Thorne lifted the bartender up, pressing her against the car. The metal from the widow dug into her back. She wrapped her legs around his middle, arms looping around his neck. They kissed in harmony, with just the right amount of tongue teasing and lip sucking.
A drunk patron and his sober friends passed. Their feet plodded heavy on the concrete as they walked off the stuffiness of the bar.
"Get a room," the drunk shouted.
She giggled against his lips, sharp and shrill. To Thorne it sounded like a rusty saw against steel. He shifted his feet and angled his body away from her. She hung suspended, a chafing cord around his neck and waist.
Something in his gaze, blank and unseeing, had her legs sliding down his, her arms untangling. A desolate wasteland had appeared in his eyes and she'd become frightened.
When she gasped, Thorne forced himself to come back to the present. He smiled, pushing fake happiness into his expression.
He briefly lifted her, placing a kiss on her forehead. She grinned and went for his lips. They remained stiff for a second before relaxing. She took advantage of the moment and kissed him deeper.
"Let's go, babe," he said, keeping one arm around her waist as he lowered her to the ground.
Thorne knew the mark watched his comings and goings. He'd seen the recorded tapes of Jeannie's movements. For some reason he couldn't fathom, Thorne wanted Jeannie to see the woman brought home. He wanted to shake his neighbor from the indifference she'd shown him.
He started off by letting the bartender kiss him in the hallway.
A rush of satisfaction flooded through him when the light in his neighbor's apartment turned off, and the spy hole darkened.
The mark is watching.
Thorne let Jeannie get a good look at the small blonde before ushering her inside. He then threw a smirk across the hall before he closed his door with a click.
Thorne placed his keys into a wooden bowl he'd picked up at a market in Kenya. He loosened the tie from his hair so it brushed his collar in a golden wave.
"Would you like something to drink?"
The woman didn't answer, just gazed at him while sucking on her bottom lip with her slightly crooked teeth. Her wide electric-blue eyes glowed as she mentally undressed him.
Thorne pulled her to him, giving the woman's backside a healthy squeeze before lifting her against the door.
Time to give the mark a show, he thought as he lowered his head for a kiss.