The Border: The Complete Series by Amy Cross Page A

something deeper. Unable to take his eyes off her, the stranger watched as she made her way to the counter and placed an order, and he couldn't help but notice the thick bundle of cash she quickly rifled through as she headed over to take a seat in the corner.
    “You wanna sit with me?” he asked.
    No reply. She was clearly lost in a world of her own, too intent on counting her money to even notice that he was trying to get her attention. For a moment, he simply watched her, struck by the contrast between her businesslike way of handling the notes and the fact that her hands seemed to be trembling. A few seconds later, she cursed under her breath and started counting again, and then the same thing happened not long after, as if she was having trouble concentrating.
    “Hey,” he said, waving at her, “you okay over there?”
    She glanced at him, and for a moment she seemed a little defensive, almost as if she was startled that anyone had noticed her.
    “Sorry,” the stranger continued, “I didn't mean to pry, I just...” He paused, watching as she stuffed the money back into her bag. “It's just a little quiet in here, don't you think? I can actually hear myself think for once, which isn't much fun, I can tell you. The stuff I'm thinking is... Well, it's not particularly fascinating. I never knew I was such a boring fucker.”
    “I'm fine,” she said quietly, before setting her bag on her knees and starting to root through the contents.
    “You should get a note-counter,” he added.
    She glanced at him.
    “You know, a money counter? Like they have in banks. One of those'd whip through a little stack on notes in no time.”
    No reply.
    “Just a suggestion,” he told her. “I thought I'd be helpful, that's all.”
    Without saying another word, she looked back down into her bag. After a moment, it became clear that she was trying once again to count the money, this time while keeping it out of sight.
    “Can I ask you something?” the stranger continued, leaning so far back on his chair that it seemed in danger of tipping over. “Serious question. Do you know where the action is around here? 'Cause I went to the only bar in town last night, the Monument, and it was dead as all hell. Like, there was only one other guy in there, and trust me, he wasn't in the mood for talking. Seemed to have a rod up his ass, actually, about this dead chick from a few years back. So is there some place that I don't know about? You know, somewhere all the interesting and cool people hang out?”
    “I don't think so,” she replied, taking her phone from her bag and checking for messages.
    “Huh,” he continued, “so there's no like... underground clubs in town?”
    She turned to him.
    “Somewhere interesting,” he added. “I don't care if it's edgy or modern, or old-fashioned, or full of posers, or real grubby, or what kind of music they play, I don't care about any of that, all I ask is that it's interesting in some capacity. I mean, the bar on the town square is fine enough, I guess, if that's what you're looking for, but sometimes a guy wants something more... Yeah, more interesting.” He waited for her to reply. “Then again, maybe this is the wrong kind of town for interesting nights. Maybe I'm flat out of luck.”
    “Maybe,” she replied, before looking back down at her phone. She clearly didn't want to talk, as she tapped away at the screen and carefully avoided looking back at him.
    “You're bleeding,” the stranger said suddenly.
    “What?”
    “Your leg.” He pointed down, to where a trickle of blood had run from under her trouser-leg, onto her ankle, and over her sandals until it reached the floor. “Sorry, you just... You didn't seem to have noticed, but you're definitely bleeding.”
    “Katie!” the waitress called out. “Food's up!”
    “Thanks,” Katie replied, getting to her feet and hurrying to the counter. Once she'd placed her food on her table, she turned to the stranger as if she was about