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.
As soon as they were alone, his friend leaned forward. “How are you? I heard they kept you in debrief for a few weeks.”
“I’m okay, Jeremy. Standard operating procedure. It hasn’t fully hit me yet that I’m done with that life.” He shrugged. “How are you? Any trouble kicking free from your employer?”
“Not really. As you say, S.O.P. You know the stats as well as I do. There are only so many years one can go under, play that game, and stay alive. Or stay sane.”
“Who the fuck says either one of us is sane?”
Jeremy met his gaze. The man’s green eyes fairly laughed. “You’ve got me there.”
A few seconds later, the waitress returned and set a cup of coffee and a small basket with creamers in front of Jeremy. “Here you are, sir. Do y’all need more time to decide what you’ll have?”
“I’m ready. Jeremy?”
Jeremy nodded. “I’m going to have a hamburger with bacon and cheese and fries, please.”
The woman made note then turned to Marc.
“I’ll have the taco soup and the pulled pork sandwich.”
“Do you want fries with that?”
“Sure. I’ll live life on the edge for a change.” He thought Jeremy was going to choke. Marc hadn’t intentionally timed his quip with Jeremy’s first sip of his coffee. It just worked out that way.
Their waitress smiled, even if she didn’t understand the joke. She scooped up the menu and headed off, likely to put in their orders.
“So, how long do you think we have to wait?” Marc sat back, actually feeling relaxed, and waited for his friend to answer. This might be his hometown, but Jeremy had been here most recently.
“Did you notice the cameras?” Jeremy asked.
“I did. Two up high at each entrance to the parking lot. They looked high tech, and that’s no surprise. Likely feed into a computer recognition program, probably installed in the sheriff’s office.”
Jeremy nodded. “My assessment as well. I would say, since we’re both driving our own personal vehicles, that we will probably be interrupted before we’ve finished our lunch.”
Minutes. Mere minutes until the next step would be taken. Before Marc could internalize that, before he could even begin to figure out what his reaction was going to be, or wonder who’d come to meet them, the waiting ended.
The door to the roadhouse was pulled open, and two men entered. A couple of formidable looking alpha-dogs whipped off their sunglasses and began to scan the crowd.
They spotted Marc and headed straight for him. The man in uniform was accompanied by another man, one Marc hadn’t seen in years. When he’d taken off, first to Waco, and then for parts not reported, this man, this oldest brother, had been in Chicago. And since he didn’t do anything without his next oldest brother, Marc took his presence in Lusty for a good sign.
Looks like I’m not the only one of Pamela Jessop’s chicks to come home to roost.
Marc got to his
