Chapter 40

“Listen,” Dorner said, coming around from behind his desk. “You boys on the clock or are you just workin’ unofficial overtime?”

“I guess you could say we’re not on the clock but that doesn’t make this any less official.”

“I was just thinkin’ you both look uncomfortable standin’ there and we could get more comfortable—”

“Now listen, Mister,” Kord said, a warning growl in his voice.

“At the bar, son, at the bar. Unless you like being hogtied and shown the best night you’ve had in a long time?”

“The bar’ll be fine.” Kord snapped.

They left the office, walked back down the red-lit hall, then through a sparsely populated lounge area, and came to the bar. A long curving affair, the bar allowed customers the maximum view of others sitting with their drinks.

“Sit and we’ll talk,” the older man said and ducked under the counter. He popped back up in front of them and looked Doyle in the eye. “You’re a bourbon man. And you,” he eyed Kord for a moment. “You’re scotch. Am I right?”