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Listed as one of the fastest cars in the world, the Tesla Roadster was sleek, sexy, and moved like stink. He’d paid cash for it and arranged to have it waiting for him just before he went into debrief. He wanted to drive into his home state for the first time in over a decade in his own car, as himself.
Marc was officially out of the spy business, but it might be awhile before the spy business was out of him. He didn’t think there would ever come a time when he would be lax about security. His thoughts touched on where he was going, of who all would be or could be in his future, and he realized that, no, he’d never be lax about security again. Marc could never go back to being the same idealistic and naïve young man he’d been ten years ago when he’d left Lusty for the wider and, yes, much wickeder world.
He was who he was, period. He’d done what he’d done in service to his country, and he had no regrets.
Marc knew it was exactly thirty seconds since he’d stepped into the roadhouse and begun casing the joint. Unwilling to draw any more attention to himself, he headed to the back of the dining room. No one was sitting at the table for four in the very back, on his far right. So he picked that one and took a seat on the bench that spanned the width of the room. He slid into place, back to the wall, and doubted that instinct would end anytime soon, either.
He hoped he didn’t have to wait too long.
“Welcome to Angel’s Roadhouse.” The pretty brunette practically bounced over to his table. She’d actually moved to the beat of the music he heard softly playing in the background. “Would you like to see our menu, sir?”
“Yes, please. Do y’all have any sweet tea?” And what a pleasure it was to use his own natural voice, instead of any of the many accents he’d mastered over the years.
“We do, indeed. While you have a look at our menu, I’ll go get you some.”
“Thank you.” He perused the offerings, pleased to see some selections that reminded him of suppers when he was a kid—Tex-Mex dishes like queso and cheese enchiladas, as well as pulled pork, brisket, and, of course, steak.
Marc thought his stomach could almost handle every one of those dishes. In one sitting. I’ve been hungry for home for a long time.
He looked up as the roadhouse door opened and another hungry customer entered the place. The man didn’t immediately remove his aviator shades. Instead, he stood for a moment, lethally still, taking the few seconds necessary for his eyes to adjust to the darker interior lighting. The newcomer scanned the diners present. His blond hair looked windblown, as if he’d just gotten off a motorcycle after riding like the wind without his helmet—or ridden a short distance at a hundred miles an hour with all the windows down.
The memory brought a smile to his thoughts. Marc was going to miss the Autobahn.
Then the newcomer moved and, taking unhurried steps, walked a straight and deliberate line toward him. He came to a stop at the chair facing Marc.
“That little silver orgasm-inducer on four wheels out in the parking lot yours?”
“Yes. Is it working?”
The man pulled off his sunglasses and met his gaze. “Almost. Damn, Marc, that is one hell of a sweet ride.” He tossed his shades on the table and then sat.
He tilted his head, and Marc realized he’d sensed the waitress approaching.
Marc spun the menu around so his companion could have a look.
“Oh, hey. There’re two of you.” She set the sweet tea down in front of Marc and turned to the newcomer. “What can I get you to drink, sir?”
“Do you have any coffee?”
The brunette gave them both a big smile. Out of habit, Marc checked her finger. The sight of two slim gold bands on her left ring finger nearly made him grin. It was good to know that some things about home truly hadn’t changed.
“Yes, sir, I made some about five minutes ago. I’ll be right back with a mug for you. Should I bring another menu?” She turned her attention back to Marc.
He shook his head. “No, that’s fine, thanks. I’ve already decided what I want.” He doubted the taco soup would be as good as his mother’s, but the aromas in here were appetizing, so it could be possible.
