Read Depths: Southern Watch #2 for Free Online Page B

said, and Hendricks could tell he was not bothering to look for himself. “It’s no Hoover Dam, but it’s pretty big.”
    “Pretty dam big?” Hendricks asked with a wry smile.
    Arch didn’t smile, and for some reason that annoyed Hendricks even more. “I’m dropping you off at Erin’s,” the big man said again.
    “How am I supposed to explain the state of my face and body, genius?” Hendricks said, tilting his head to look at the deputy. Dumb idea.
    “Tell her you were in a bar fight.”
    Hendricks had to concede that would probably work, though it wouldn’t make him sound too good. There was another problem though. “I don’t …” he felt his voice get involuntarily lower, “I don’t actually know where she lives.”
    Arch whipped around again for this. “Haven’t you been sleeping with her?”
    “At my motel, yes,” Hendricks agreed. “A few times, anyway.”
    “But you don’t know where she lives?” Arch was staring at him, eyebrow cocked. It would have been an are-you-fucking-kidding-me? look, except Arch didn’t swear.
    “I don’t know how familiar you are with the act of coitus,” Hendricks said, “but it doesn’t require you to know the person’s address before you do it. Or even their name, really.”
    Arch made a sound like, “Gaaaah,” a noise crossed with exasperation and possibly disgust.
    “Don’t get judgy,” Hendricks said, putting his face back against the cool glass. “People don’t like judgy Christians.”
    “Sorry if I’m reacting poorly to your revelation that you know very little about the woman you’re sleeping with,” Arch said. “I don’t tend to hang around with people who have a lot of one-night stands. Or any at all, really.”
    “You don’t have any friends your own age, huh?” Hendricks was just being snotty now, and he knew it.
    “Not any like you,” Arch said. “At least not until now.”
    “That’s all right,” Hendricks said, and he shut himself up before he could say, I never knew any guys that were going to end the world until I started to hang out with you.
     
    * * *
     
    Erin Harris wasn’t at the bar tonight. It wasn’t because she didn’t want to be. It was because her rent check had just cleared and she was about fifty bucks short of broke with three days to go until her next paycheck. That wasn't a margin she was comfortable with, so she stayed in.
    Some show was going on the TV, something she’d kind of stumbled onto by accident. It was a movie, maybe, something with a couple guys out after dark, walking a city street looking for trouble. It wasn’t really that interesting, and she half expected a monster to jump out at them. She was sipping half-heartedly on a light beer, the last drink she could find in her fridge, but she wasn’t really into it. The pungent smell of the weak ale was kind of turning her stomach, if she was honest about it. When she took a sip, she made a face. She took another sip anyway.
    The TV was blaring, and she was on the verge of turning it off when there was a knock at the door. She got up and grabbed her pistol before she went to answer it, folding her hand around the Glock 19. The plastic checkering on the grip bit into her palm as she walked toward the door. Her career experience told her people who tended to knock on the door at eleven at night didn’t always have pure intentions, even in little ol’ Midian. Better safe than sorry.
    Her apartment was small, a one bedroom with shabby carpeting that probably had been there since the nineties. She had minimal furniture in the main room, just a couch and a TV. The walls had a few pictures, and the whole place smelled of the Spaghetti-O’s which she'd eaten earlier. It was the last thing in the pantry. Honestly, though, even if it had been the first thing in the pantry, she’d still have eaten it. She liked Spaghetti-O’s.
    She eased up to the door as another knock sounded. She looked out through the peephole, keeping the gun low at hand.