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“Comin’ right up,” she says and walks off to place our order.
I frown at him. “Chicken and waffles?”
I nod. “It’s one of the best things ever.”
“If you say so.”
“I do. I most definitely do,” he replies. “Don’t knock it ‘til you try it.”
“You know, I’ve never tried barbecued road kill, but I don’t think I need to eat it to know I’ll hate it.”
He laughs. “You just don’t know what you’re missing,” he says. “You are missing out on one of the finest things in life.”
“You said I was one of the finest things in life not half an hour ago.”
“Well, I wasn’t lying then,” he points out. “And I’m not lying now either.”
I grin. “Fair enough, I suppose. Though I’m not real thrilled with being compared to a plate of chicken and waffles.”
“You will notice, though, that I eat both with the same vigor.”
My guffaw is so loud, it draws the attention of everybody in the diner. My cheeks flare with heat and I look down, trying to avoid the curious stares.
“You are awful,” I say.
“That’s not what you said just about half an hour ago.”
“Really, really awful.”
Trying to avoid making a spectacle of myself, I tone down the laughter and take a drink of my coffee and look around the small diner. It looks a lot like the diner we stopped at on our way toward Vegas the day Hawk and Reaper helped me escape. It has the same black and white tiles and chrome fixtures. This time the vinyl booths are a bright blue. Otherwise, it’s virtually identical which kind of amuses me. There isn’t a lot of originality in small-town diners.
“So, what are we going to do?” I ask.
“Well, I figure we’re going to need to lay low a bit. Just to be safe.”
“But you said Hammerhead is dead.”
He nods. “Yeah, but there are others—Hogwild, Jammer, Deadbolt—not to mention any number of guys who still fly the Deviant colors. They may have figured out that we scammed ‘em and might be lookin’ for a little payback.”
I groan. “Great.”
“Don’t worry. I’m going to keep you safe,” he tells me. “That’s one reason we got out of town. We’re going to keep our heads down for a little bit. Just until all the dust out there settles. That’s all. It’s all good. Trust me.”
“I do trust you,” I say and really mean it. “But why do you look so troubled when you’re talking about it?”
He laughs softly. “You don’t miss anything, do you?”
“Not a lot,” I admit.
“I’m not all that worried, if that’s what you’re thinking. I don’t think they’ll be comin’ out here to find us,” he says.
“But?”
“But, Reaper and I basically started a war out there. The Howlers and the Deviants are going to blame each other. Shit will get real bad, real quick,” he says. “Unless they both figure out they’ve been set up. If they do, they’ll come lookin’ for that bike we’re on. The Howlers are going to want to know who shot up their club and the Deviants are going to want to know who offed their guy then stole his bike.”
“But you’re not worried about it, huh?”
He shakes his head. “Nah. Just means we need to get rid of the bike.”
