“Good.” She stared at him a little longer because she liked how uncomfortable it made him. When Rhynehart got uncomfortable, he let off this smell that made the halfling think of those huge grasshoppers she’d found in the open field behind her mom’s house during the summer—a dusty, grassy sweetness that turned sour if she sniffed it for too long. She slid her hand onto the button for the automatic window and pushed it down.
He shot her another quick glance. “Getting too hot in here?”
“You smell.”
Rhynehart choked on a laugh and shook his head. “A drow’s sense of smell is exactly what everyone talks it up to be, huh?”
“I don’t know, but I kinda wish it didn’t work so well right now.” She leaned toward the open window and let the fresh air blow her hair away from her face. That hair was black again, her skin returned to its normal human paleness. At least she’d managed to calm herself enough after the church fight to bring her drow magic back under control. She’d have thought it would have been impossible after what she’d seen.
The sign for the exit that would take them back to the mall where he’d picked her up crept steadily closer. By the time they reached the exit, Rhynehart didn’t slow down at all, and then he passed it.
“You were supposed to get off there, by the way.” She jerked her thumb behind her.
“Yeah, we’re not heading back to the mall just yet.”
“Seriously? I did the freakin’ job with you. You’re gonna hold me hostage again?”
Rhynehart sighed. “Just one more stop, rookie. It won’t take long, I promise.”
“You promise? That supposed to mean something to me?”
He shot her an irritated frown before gazing back out at the highway. “I get that you’re pissed, kid. I would be too if I were in your shoes. And I was just following orders, yeah? That’s something we do. But now that everything’s all laid out on the table, you might find things get a little easier if you stop holding a grudge.”
“Yeah, okay. I’ll stop holding a grudge when you stop springing surprises on me, like missing the exit for the mall.”
The operative puffed out a sigh through loose lips and didn’t say anything else.
They pulled up five minutes later outside a diner on the edge of Richmond—the kind with the silver runners all the way around, the rest of the outside painted that glittery red that made a diner a real diner. It might’ve even been the same place Ember had taken her to one of the first times they’d gone out together freshman year, mostly because the place was open twenty-four-seven. It was the kind of place that would have made Bianca Summerlin press her lips together in silent distaste. Cheyenne didn’t think the food was all that bad, but the timing was just plain awful.
“You are not taking me out to dinner.” She scowled at Rhynehart when he parked the Jeep in the lot and turned off the engine.
“Well, I wasn’t planning on it. You got any cash on you?”
The halfling blinked at him and spread her arms.
“Nah. That’s cool. If you want something, I’ll float you this time. Come on.” The guy got out of the Jeep like he’d been waiting for a sit-down with a plate of fried diner food, smiling up at the building as he shut the door behind him.
“A freakin’ diner.” Cheyenne shook her head and jerked the seatbelt out of the buckle before tossing it against the door. Then she got out and had to fight not to slam the door so hard it shattered the windows.
She stalked after the operative, who was all but skipping toward the diner with his hands in his pockets. When she reached him at the front door, he held it open for her until her blank stare convinced him to drop the attempted chivalry. With a shrug, Rhynehart stepped inside, and the halfling held the door for her own damn self.
The little bell on the door chimed, and the smell of frying oil, frozen burgers, slightly burned buns and fries, and cooking eggs assaulted her. Her stomach turned on her in an instant and growled, but fortunately, the hiss of the grill and the clack of the metal spatula against it made it impossible for anyone else to hear.
Rhynehart nodded at the cook behind the order counter. “Hey, Roger.”
“Charlie, my man.” The giant man in a grease-spattered apron gave Rhynehart a huge grin. “Haven’t seen you here in a while.”
“Couldn’t stay away for much longer. I tried.” Rhynehart shrugged and pointed toward a booth halfway down the diner.
Cheyenne almost choked on her own laugh. “Charlie?”
The operative slid into a red vinyl booth behind one of the white-topped tables lined in the same silver ridges around the edge. A woman wearing a pink dress and an apron straight out of the fifties approached with menus and silverware. She couldn’t have been older than mid-thirties, her blonde hair in a neat bun. She stopped beside their booth as Cheyenne slid in across from Charlie and laid everything down.
“How you doin’, honey?” The gum smacked obnoxiously loud between her teeth as she smiled politely at Rhynehart.
“Better now that I stopped here.” The man skimmed the menu, then dropped it onto the table. “Just bring me a black coffee for now, yeah?”
“Sure thing. How about your friend?”
The halfling blinked up at the server and cut Rhynehart off as he opened his mouth. “We’re not friends. And I’m not getting anything.”
“Oh.” The woman shrugged like it didn’t make a difference to her either way—like she hadn’t even picked up on the sting in the Goth chick’s words—and kept smacking her gum. “Well, let me know if you
