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Megan still didn’t quite believe that Knox had readily accepted her explanation. He, more than anyone else in town, knew of the mental health evaluations she had gone through to earn her release to the supervised house.
Back in her car, she checked to see if there were any new orders placed as it warmed. Curious, she also looked to see what Knox had given her. She shook her head at the amount and tucked her cell phone holder onto the dashboard.
She drove back across the street and turned the car off, waiting for another order to come in. It was nearing noon, so she was anticipating something coming in soon. Tapping her feet on the floorboards, she pulled a thick blanket she kept in the car over her shoulders.
“This is getting ridiculous,” she complained out loud to herself. When she couldn’t take it any longer, she threw the blanket off and grabbed her phone. “To hell with this.” Jerking herself out the car, she slammed the door shut just to make herself feel better.
Stomping her feet to get rid of the numbness, she pulled the door open so hard it slapped the outside of the building. Then, jerking the door closed, she threw a challenging gaze at Marty when he came from out the kitchen area.
Stomping toward the counter, she plopped herself down on the chair. “I want a damn cup of coffee,” she ordered aggressively.
Marty wiped his hands on a dish towel hanging off his shoulder. “Then you can make it your own damn self.”
Wanting nothing more than to chuck the heavy metal napkin holder at him, she had to slowly count to ten to get her temper in check before she went behind the counter.
The coffee was still dripping when she noticed an order.
Reading the order, she nearly burned herself when she saw the name on the transaction—Cole.
She set the pot back on the burner and went through the kitchen door, coming to standstill.
Marty was sitting on a chair with his legs on another, his face twisted in a grimace of pain.
“Are you all right?”
“What in the fuck do you want now?”
Realizing the amount of pain Marty was in, Megan finally got why he didn’t want many customers inside the restaurant. Customers had to be waited on, and Marty was clearly not capable of waiting on a large quantity of tables. She didn’t have to wonder why Marty didn’t hire additional help, either. Greer wasn’t the only one in town who had a huge ego.
“I need two grand bags with extra fries.”
Hiding her sympathy, Megan went back to the front of the restaurant. Drinking her coffee, she looked at the address for Cole’s order.
“Darn,” she muttered under her breath.
“What in the fuck is wrong?” was yelled out from the kitchen.
Any sympathy she felt for Marty went up in smoke.
What the heck? How had he heard her?
Pivoting in her chair, she scrutinized the walls and tables. He had to be rec—
Unable to spot a camera, she was about to give up when something told her to look up. And there it was … in the light fixture. He didn’t need the bell; the camera was doing all the work. Why in the heck would Marty have to go to such an extreme to record his customers?
A sick thought entered her mind.
She jumped off the stool and went to the restroom, checking for cameras there. When she came out, Marty was leaning against the counter of the cash register.
“Find what you were looking for?” he asked drily.
Megan felt the riding-high flush flood her cheeks. Since he had figured out what she was doing, Megan saw no sense in mincing words.
“Why do you have cameras with recording devices in your lights?”
Marty made a sarcastic face at her. “You have to ask me that?”
“Obviously, or I wouldn’t have asked.”
“You think I’m looking down woman’s tops?”
“I think that’s a possibility.”
“I don’t get off looking down women’s tops.”
Megan didn’t want to believe he did, but unless he came up with a better excuse as to what was going on, she would have to go with that thought.
“Then why?”
“I have made a few enemies in my lifetime. For some reason, people don’t like me. I figured if someone comes in to kill me, the least the fucker could do is tell me why he’s going kill me. That way, it’ll be on tape. I don’t want the fucker to get away.”
“Oh …” She nodded in understanding. That people hated Marty enough to kill him … that she could believe.
Ten
Nervous, Megan pulled into The Last Riders’ parking lot. Her nerves didn’t settle at the thought of seeing Cole.
She parked her car and got out, taking her delivery bag. To calm her nerves, she started singing a song in her head. Music always soothed her or allowed her to escape to someone else’s heartache. Mentally singing “Jingle Bells,” she cautiously walked to where Cole and another man were working on a bike.
