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The pistol tucked into the back of his jeans was a comforting weight.
It was colder here than Harry had realised. The last time he was here, it had been hot. Now, the desert winter evening air had some bite.
Harry could see Asher, no more than a shadow in shadows, and Harry had no doubt that Asher was watching him too. Sure, he trusted Asher. Somewhat.
But notthatmuch.
He went inside to pay and to see what they had in the way of food. It was a small station off the highway—the kind less likely to have recording cameras—so he didn’t have high hopes, but he found some seasoned chickpeas, which he liked, and those soy crisps Asher had eaten in Tangiers. There were some questionable fruit packs that he left alone, but the flatbreads looked good and the tubs of hummus seemed to be homemade so he took two. He grabbed some bottles of water and made his way to the counter.
And there, at the checkout, were packs of those damn mints Asher liked.
Harry grumbled, and lord, how he hated himself, but he grabbed three... no, four packs and added them to his purchases. Now he was buying things for Asher? The crisps he liked and those damn mints that were going to rot his teeth...
Before the clerk had put the sale through, Harry swapped the mints out for the sugar-free ones. Asher was going to be pissed.
Harry hated himself a little less.
Asher was in the passenger seat when Harry walked back out, and Harry tossed the bag at him a bit too cheerfully. He started the car and drove back toward the highway. “I bought you a surprise.”
“You did?” Asher’s expression was so genuinely happy, for one split second Harry regretted not buying him the real thing. He rifled through the bag and was like an excited child pulling out the mints... until he read the label. His brow furrowed and he aimed his glare at Harry. “These are sugar free.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I didn’t say thank you.”
“They’re your favourite.”
“These are sugar free. My favourite are not sugar free.” He held up the small tin of mints like it offended him. “You did this on purpose?”
“Your dentist will thank me.”
“I hate you.”
“No you don’t.”
He shook the mints. “I haaaate you.”
“I bought you those soy crisp things you like as well.”
Whatever tirade he was about to unload faded slowly. He closed his mouth and pouted for a bit. “I still hate you.”
Harry smiled. “You’re welcome.”
“I did not say thank you.”
“Did you get ahold of your informant? The mysterious Number Four?”
“I’m not sure I can tell you.”
“Why not? If I’m following his goddamned orders—”
“Because you got me the sugar-free mints. If you got me the real ones, I’d tell you everything.”
“You absolutely would not.”
“Now we will never know.”
Harry laughed. “I’m actually surprised at how well we get along.”
“I hate you.”
