Cold Wind - C. J. Box [28]
Johnny and Drennen exchanged glances. Drennen broke into a smile, although Johnny seemed either unsure of his own reaction or simply drunk and placid. She could tell they liked being called men as well as the implication they were locals.
Johnny grinned crookedly and held out his hand. “Johnny,” he said. “This other’s Drennen.”
“Walking After Midnight” was playing on the jukebox. “Patsy,” she said, knowing they wouldn’t get it. She shook Johnny’s hand first, and then offered her hand to Drennen, who flinched at first but then shook it.
“Nice to meet you, Patsy,” Johnny said, draining his bottle. “I bet Drennen and me could use another one of these while we talk, if you don’t mind.”
She gestured to Timberman again with two fingers, meaning she was fine but the boys were thirsty.
“I’m willing to pay you boys quite a lot of money,” she said. “As long as you keep your mouths closed and we actually find him. You see, I’m quite well off, due to the insurance money and all.”
“Shoot,” Drennen said. “Who don’t need some money these days? Money’s like . . . gold.”
Which made Johnny grin and say to Drennen, “If you’ve ever said anything stupider than that, I can’t remember it.”
“I have,” Drennen assured him.
“See,” Johnny said, “it gets kind of frustrating to be around rich folks all summer long. They don’t seem to even know they’re rich, which is a pisser. You just want to say to them, ‘Give me just a little of what you got. You won’t miss it and I could sure use some of it.’ ”
The new beers arrived, and she sat back. She’d laid it out and now it was up to them. She wouldn’t tell them any more until they begged for it. And if the whole deal collapsed, she’d said nothing so far that would implicate her in any way. Not the name of the man she was looking for. Or the name of her adviser.
“It ain’t like we’re busy right now,” Johnny said, drawing little circles with his fingertip through the condensation on his full bottle.
Drennen said, “Hell, we’re camping up by Crazy Woman Creek. And it’s starting to get cold at night, and damned if I’m gonna spoon with that guy.” He pointed the mouth of his bottle toward Johnny, who grinned.
“Me and Johnny—this ain’t no Brokeback Mountain kind of deal,” Drennen offered.
“Jesus,” Johnny groaned at his friend. “Get back to the money part. Don’t pay Drennen any mind. He . . . talks.”
Drennen agreed, not the least bit offended.
She shook her head and gestured toward the pool table. “You boys are unemployed and living in the mountains, yet you manage to get a ride to town for some leisure activities.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Drennen said earnestly. “Even the unemployed got a right to a night on the town.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” she said, looking closely at him, wondering how much of his head was solid rock. “That’s why it’s such a great country. We won’t let anyone take our rights away.”
“Damn straight,” Drennen said, nodding. “I could just kiss you for that.” Then he leaned over to her, the weight of him on her, and raised his chin in an effort to peck her on the cheek.
“Ow!” he yelped, and recoiled, snapping his head back so hard his hat bounced off the back of the booth and tumbled to the table. He plunged both of his hands between his thighs. “What was that? It was like a snake bit me in the unit.”
“No snake,” she said, withdrawing the knitting needle from where she’d jabbed him under the table, “and no kissing. No hijinks of any kind. Not until we come to some kind of understanding.”
Johnny watched the whole scene without flinching, without expression. He looked at her and said, “But maybe after that?”
“Jesus,” Drennen said, reclaiming his hat and fitting it back on. “Did you see what she did?”
Laurie looked back at Johnny and said, “It’s always a possibility. But first things first.”
“You mentioned money,” Johnny said in a whisper, leaning forward across the table. “What kind of dollars we talking about here?”
“Ten thousand,