There was a knock at my door and I stopped typing. Looking out of the spyhole I could see a girl with dark hair.
“Who is it?” I called.
“I saved your life today, and you offered me a beer. May said you were up here.” I opened the door.
She flowed into the room, lighting it up with her smile and the force of her personality. Her dark eyes swept over me, a faint grin on her face. “Hi, I’m Tash Perdue.” She stuck out a hand and I shook it. It was a firm grip, a working person’s grip. At her touch I felt my heart lurch, as if I had been plugged into the mains.
“I was coming back from the north edge when you dropped off the map. Then I saw you balanced halfway down – how did you end up there?”
She was tall, slim and brown-eyed, and with her dark hair coiled on top of her head it made her look even taller. She wore a dark boiler suit, which had been altered to fit closely, and dark boots. The effect was set off by a flash of white shirt at her throat and a silver belt. She looked like a top model in pristine working gear.
“We were run off the road; there was a rig coming up the down ramp.”
She nodded, frowning. “I’ll bet they had no ID on the map reader.”
“Got it in one,” I confirmed. “Does this happen a lot?”
She smiled. “That’ll be a Balcom rig, it’s typical of them. They don’t like Al, although they normally just leave it at verbal abuse. I can’t see them meaning to kill him though, frighten him maybe.” She changed the subject. “You must be Nic’s hotel guy; May said that you were.”
Click Follow to receive emails when this author adds content on Bublish