“John Hall. He was the tall jerk in Boston. Shall I send a hit team after him?” he said sarcastically. Except that he wasn’t really sarcastic—at the time he wanted nothing more than to kill every man she’d slept with during that period when she first got back to the States, and he’d never had a jealous bone in his body until then.
Before she could reply, their food arrived, a massive feast covering the table with dishes of toast, eggs, pancakes, breakfast meats, potatoes, and steak. Evangeline had already worked her way through most of the pitcher of Diet Coke, and Bishop was on his third mug of the sludge they called coffee. “I’ll get you a refill,” Alice promised him after she’d unloaded her tray, and returned in a moment with the pitcher, A-1 sauce, and more cream. “You just call me if you need anything, sugar,” she said cheerfully.
He gave her a tight smile of thanks before turning to the food laid out before them.
“I want to know . . .” Evangeline began, but he interrupted her.
“I don’t give a shit what you want right now,” he growled. “Just shut up and eat.”
He expected her to give him more trouble, but after that kick, she did what she was told, the lure of food, too much for her to resist. There was so much food, they’d end up taking half of it with them, and he still had to order a couple of burgers for Merlin, but right then all he cared about was shoveling eggs down his throat. Whether he wanted to or not he had to fuel his body, and he dug into the meal with grim determination.
He was halfway through his pancakes when he finally looked up and froze. She was chewing on a piece of toast, and everything else was gone. She’d eaten the eggs, the pancakes, the sausages and bacon, even the mediocre potatoes were gone. The steak was mostly gristle, and she’d left that part behind, but somehow she’d managed to devour the huge meal so quietly and efficiently that he was left dumbfounded.
“Want your bacon?” she asked.
“You can’t still be hungry,” he said in a flat voice.
“I was thinking of Merlin. I don’t think meat would hurt him, but I draw the line at hamburgers.”
“Too bad—I already ordered them, and if you won’t let me feed them to Merlin, then you’ll have to eat them yourself.”
Aha! She was more stuffed than she pretending to be, because the mention of eating more food turned her gorgeous skin slightly pale. He needed to remember she had a weak stomach. “You’ve already eaten too much on an empty stomach,” he continued. “And I don’t want to be holding your head over a toilet.”
“I’m fine,” she said in a tight voice. “And speaking of toilets, I have to go.”
“Yeah, I’m sure you do.”
“Listen, fuckwad, you can’t come into the ladies’ room with me, so just chill! Where could I go? You know I’m not going to ask anyone for help and risk getting anyone caught in the crossfire. I’ve just had about a gallon of Diet Coke, and the time is now.”
He believed her. She wouldn’t risk anyone else, and there really was nowhere they could go. They were at a truck stop in the middle of nowhere and had been on the road for sixteen hours. Even she had her limits.
“Go ahead,” he said. “Just don’t think you can sneak out the back with that extra pair of keys you found. You wouldn’t be able to start the truck, and you’d end up pissing me off for nothing.”
She didn’t bother to hide her annoyance. “I don’t have my wallet or driver’s license anyway.”
“And we’re just about out of gas, and there’s no way you’re going to get any without a credit card.”
“Won’t a credit card lead your so-called enemies to us?” she said caustically.
“Did Clement look like a so-called enemy?” he shot back.
Repeating his own words, she said, “Clement? Who’s he? I don’t remember anyone named Clement.”
She was really pissing him off. He couldn’t risk stopping for a rest when he was in such a volatile mood—he was inches away from . . . no, he wasn’t even going to allow himself to think about what he wanted to do with her. “For someone who has a full bladder, you don’t seem to be in any hurry,” he said instead, ignoring her taunt. “The offer is time-sensitive.”
She stomped off, radiating fury. He watched her go, as did half a dozen truckers, and he wanted to smash every one of them. She was wearing loose, raggedy cutoffs and an oversized t-shirt with “Come to the Dark Side, We Have Cookies” emblazoned on it, which he viewed with wry amusement. He had no idea whether she’d chosen it on purpose—he hadn’t delved into her clothing—but the geek t-shirt was a little too close to the truth. He was the Dark Side, all right, though it wasn’t cookies he was offering her, and she wasn’t coming willingly.
But man, she had gorgeous legs. Long, tanned, strong-looking. Her ass was gorgeous too, even beneath all that loose denim. She’d been all soft innocence and sweetness five years ago. Now she was hard.
So was he.
He knew how long it took a woman to empty her bladder, even a very full one, and he was on the verge of going after her when she reappeared; and all the truckers got to enjoy the front view. She put her hand on each empty booth as she approached him, and he frowned. Was she hoping to leave her fingerprints all over the place? It wouldn’t do her any damned good.
She slid back into the seat, an unreadable expression on her face. That was new too. He’d always been able to read her. He had that ability with most people—it was part of his training—but she’d been able to put up blinders every now and then. “What next?”
The leftover food—his leftover food—was already boxed up, as well as Merlin’s hamburgers. He looked at her for a long moment. She looked too closed in—she’d done something. “I think I should make use of the facilities since we’re here.”
He could feel the tension shoot through her. “You’re a man. You can just piss by the side of the road,” she snapped.