Page 12 of Fire Dancer

“It really is fine. Thank you so much,” I repeated. “We just need a few minutes to catch up.”

Hank shot Ingo a doubtful look. “Well, holler if you need help.”

The posse shuffled back to their table and sat stiffly, keeping their eyes on us.

I sighed. “You attract a hell of a lot of attention for an uncover agent. What are you doing here anyway?”

He swished his beer bottle. Non-alcoholic, of course. “I’m here to unwind.”

Ha. Only Ingo could make a night off look like a stakeout.

“Unwind. Right.” I shook my head in exasperation. “How long are you planning to stay in town again?”

“Driving you crazy already?”

“Yes. And not in a good way.”

His lips quirked, and while he didn’t answer, he held up his beer in a question. Against my better judgment, I nodded, because we really did need to talk — if only so we could figure out how to foil destiny and go our separate ways.

He signaled to the waitress for another beer, and she hurried over with it seconds later, practically undressing him with her eyes.

“Anything else I can get you?”

“Bacon cheeseburger, please.” Ingo turned to me, waiting, and a moment later, I caved, echoing his order.

“Sure thing, honey,” the waitress said — to Ingo, not me. Then she wandered away, strutting her considerable assets.

To his credit, Ingo didn’t follow her swaying hips. Instead, he went back to glaring at Hank and the others.

I snapped my fingers in front of his face. “Stop that. They’ll file for a restraining order if you keep that up.”

His jaw clicked, and his expression went grim.

I froze, studying him. “Wait. Those guys actually have a restraining order against you?”

“Of course not.”

But someone else did, I realized.

“Who?” I pressed on. “Stacy?”

He looked hurt. “I’m not after Stacy. I want to protect her.”

That Ingo had a protective streak a mile wide wasn’t news to me. But that someone had filed a restraining order against him… Wow.

“Who, then?” I demanded.

Ingo kept his lips sealed.

“Someone you once investigated?”

Ingo’s lips tightened, and a second storm joined the one that permanently brewed in his eyes.

Aha. So, it was a former suspect.

“A mafia boss?”

A tic set in next to his eye.