hate to impose on you any further.” Letting her smart mouth run wild was apt to get her in deeper trouble, but she was hungry and in desperate need of coffee.
Willie leaned in, his face inches from Shea’s. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I get the impression you’re messed up in something you shouldn’t be. Unless you want to spend the rest of your life in jail, I’d suggest getting your shit together. Childhood friendship only goes so far. Now get on outta here before I change my mind. And do drive more carefully.”
“Gee, thanks, Sarge,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
Shea pulled out slowly and cruised on to the diner. A mile down the road, Wendy held up a piece of paper. “Found it. No, wait, this is from two years ago.”
“Give it a rest, Wen.”
Chapter 16
Shea pulled into the diner’s crowded parking lot. The aluminum skin of the building gleamed like an oversized Airstream. Near the entrance, a Harley Fat Boy and a Road King sat parked next to a Ford Bronco. All three sported the skull and Confederate battle flag—nicknamed the Johnny Reb—that served as the club’s logo. Shea resisted the urge to spit on the Road King’s seat as they walked past to the front door.
Inside, plates and glasses clinked over a hum of conversation. Most of the tables were filled for the breakfast rush. Waitresses in yellow and orange outfits, armed with pots of coffee and trays of food, glided through the aisles like ballerinas.
Hunter sat in a large round booth in the corner.
“Over there.” Shea nudged Wendy in his direction and followed behind her.
Hunter looked up from his steak and eggs. “Well if it ain’t my prodigal wife and her sister, Scarface.”
“Nice to see you, too, asshole.” Shea approached the table.
A heavy hand gripped her shoulder. She turned around to see One-Shot looming over her. According to the patches on the front of his cut, he was the club’s VP. Mackey, the club’s sergeant-at-arms, stood next to him. The place felt way too crowded. Shea wondered if Hunter might be looking for payback.
“After you.” She tried to step away to let Mackey and One-Shot go first, hoping not to get boxed into the booth between them and Hunter.
“Ladies first,” said Mackey with a crooked smile. He pushed Shea and Wendy onto the seat and slid in after them. The side of his face was purple and swollen from where Switch had walloped him with the tailpipe.
One-Shot took a seat on the other side of Hunter.
Shea hooked a thumb at Mackey. “What’re Tweedledum and Tweedledee doing here, Hunter? I thought it’d be just the three of us.”
Hunter smirked at her. “You thought wrong. Where the fuck’s my gun?” He stuffed a piece of steak into his mouth, chewing so everyone could see the show. He cut up a piece and offered it to Wendy. She took a sniff and scrunched up her nose at it.
“Talk to Sheriff Buzzkill. One of his deputies took it when Annie’s babysitter got killed. I reckon they’re running ballistic tests to see if it matches the murder weapon.”
Hunter growled. “Stupid bitch, you don’t know the shitstorm you stirred up.”
“Forget the gun. Let’s talk about how we’re getting Annie back.”
“Fine, but you ain’t off the hook.”
Wendy cuddled up to him, then erupted into a fit of raspy coughing over Hunter’s food.
Hunter pulled his plate away from her. “What the hell’s wrong with you?” He turned to Shea. “What’s wrong with her? She looks like shit.”
“Beats me.”
“Shea threw away my medicine,” Wendy said with an exaggerated pout on her feverish face.
He glared at Shea. “What the hell’d you do that for?”
“We don’t need her all fucked up while we’re rescuing Annie.”
“Stupid bitch! Can’t you see she’s in withdrawal?” He cupped Wendy’s chin in his hand. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll hook you up. Mackey, call Goatsy, tell ’em to bring me some Oxy.”
Mackey pulled out his phone and made
Willie leaned in, his face inches from Shea’s. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I get the impression you’re messed up in something you shouldn’t be. Unless you want to spend the rest of your life in jail, I’d suggest getting your shit together. Childhood friendship only goes so far. Now get on outta here before I change my mind. And do drive more carefully.”
“Gee, thanks, Sarge,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
Shea pulled out slowly and cruised on to the diner. A mile down the road, Wendy held up a piece of paper. “Found it. No, wait, this is from two years ago.”
“Give it a rest, Wen.”
Chapter 16
Shea pulled into the diner’s crowded parking lot. The aluminum skin of the building gleamed like an oversized Airstream. Near the entrance, a Harley Fat Boy and a Road King sat parked next to a Ford Bronco. All three sported the skull and Confederate battle flag—nicknamed the Johnny Reb—that served as the club’s logo. Shea resisted the urge to spit on the Road King’s seat as they walked past to the front door.
Inside, plates and glasses clinked over a hum of conversation. Most of the tables were filled for the breakfast rush. Waitresses in yellow and orange outfits, armed with pots of coffee and trays of food, glided through the aisles like ballerinas.
Hunter sat in a large round booth in the corner.
“Over there.” Shea nudged Wendy in his direction and followed behind her.
Hunter looked up from his steak and eggs. “Well if it ain’t my prodigal wife and her sister, Scarface.”
“Nice to see you, too, asshole.” Shea approached the table.
A heavy hand gripped her shoulder. She turned around to see One-Shot looming over her. According to the patches on the front of his cut, he was the club’s VP. Mackey, the club’s sergeant-at-arms, stood next to him. The place felt way too crowded. Shea wondered if Hunter might be looking for payback.
“After you.” She tried to step away to let Mackey and One-Shot go first, hoping not to get boxed into the booth between them and Hunter.
“Ladies first,” said Mackey with a crooked smile. He pushed Shea and Wendy onto the seat and slid in after them. The side of his face was purple and swollen from where Switch had walloped him with the tailpipe.
One-Shot took a seat on the other side of Hunter.
Shea hooked a thumb at Mackey. “What’re Tweedledum and Tweedledee doing here, Hunter? I thought it’d be just the three of us.”
Hunter smirked at her. “You thought wrong. Where the fuck’s my gun?” He stuffed a piece of steak into his mouth, chewing so everyone could see the show. He cut up a piece and offered it to Wendy. She took a sniff and scrunched up her nose at it.
“Talk to Sheriff Buzzkill. One of his deputies took it when Annie’s babysitter got killed. I reckon they’re running ballistic tests to see if it matches the murder weapon.”
Hunter growled. “Stupid bitch, you don’t know the shitstorm you stirred up.”
“Forget the gun. Let’s talk about how we’re getting Annie back.”
“Fine, but you ain’t off the hook.”
Wendy cuddled up to him, then erupted into a fit of raspy coughing over Hunter’s food.
Hunter pulled his plate away from her. “What the hell’s wrong with you?” He turned to Shea. “What’s wrong with her? She looks like shit.”
“Beats me.”
“Shea threw away my medicine,” Wendy said with an exaggerated pout on her feverish face.
He glared at Shea. “What the hell’d you do that for?”
“We don’t need her all fucked up while we’re rescuing Annie.”
“Stupid bitch! Can’t you see she’s in withdrawal?” He cupped Wendy’s chin in his hand. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll hook you up. Mackey, call Goatsy, tell ’em to bring me some Oxy.”
Mackey pulled out his phone and made
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