Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 61723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
“Order up!”
I grab it and carry it to the counter.
Eggs. Bacon. Toast. Hash browns.
Tucker studies the plate like it’s a mechanical puzzle. “You sure this isn’t poisoned?” he teases
“Only if you annoy me.”
He picks up his fork. “Taste test will tell.”
I watch him take a bite. For a moment he just chews. Then nods. “Good.”
Relief I didn’t know I was holding slips out of my shoulders. “Glad the diner passed inspection.”
He glances up at me again. “You okay?”
The question is quieter this time. More personal.
I think about lying. Instead I say the truth. “He does that sometimes.”
“Show up angry? Get pushy?”
“Yeah.”
Tucker’s jaw tightens slightly. “He ever hurt you?”
The bluntness of the question catches me off guard. “Not like that,” I reply quickly. Too quickly.
“Like what?”
“Like the guy last night.” That’s technically true. Roger likes to feed empowered. He hasn’t grabbed me. He just makes sure his presence is felt. Pressure of sorts.
Tucker watches me carefully. Like he can tell I’m only giving him half the story But he doesn’t push. Instead he nods once. “If he bothers you again—”
I cut him off. “I’ll handle it.”
He studies me. Then nods again. “Okay.” But something in his eyes says he doesn’t entirely believe that.
And strangely, part of me doesn’t either.
Because the truth is when Tucker Bostic walked into this diner this morning, for the first time since leaving Clint I felt a little less alone.
SIX
MELLOW
The food’s good. Greasy in the way diner food is supposed to be greasy. Eggs cooked right, bacon crisp, hash browns with the perfect kind of crunch. But I’m barely tasting it.
Because every instinct in my body is still locked onto the door Roger walked out of. The man had the look he always has when things don’t go his way. Every town has them. Men who carry resentment like it’s oxygen. Guys who believe the world owes them something and women especially owe them obedience.
I’ve seen the type too many times.
Lucy has his attention. She’s easy on the eyes, curves in the right places, round face, soft features, and a sparkle in her eyes that any man with a dick would love to make dance in the throes of an orgasm. I can’t deny the allure myself, so I’m sure Roger wants a taste too.
I take another bite of eggs while Lucy moves down the counter refilling coffee cups for the other customers. She’s trying to look normal. Trying to go back to the rhythm of the morning rush.
But I notice things most people don’t.
She’s uncomfortable. It’s not the pull between us, it’s whatever trauma response Roger brings out in her. She isn’t relaxed at all, the tension evident in her face. Her shoulders are tighter. Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes anymore. And she keeps glancing toward the front door. Not constantly. Just enough. Like she expects him to come back. Or maybe she’s waiting on another boogie man. Either way, she’s rattled now.
I don’t like it. Not one bit.
The old guy beside me, Harold leans over slightly. “That fella’s trouble.” he mutters what I already know.
I keep my voice low. “Seems like it.”
Harold grunts. “Boy’s been trouble since he was twelve.”
Good to know other people are keeping an eye on Lucy’s safety as well. Harold’s been in Freedom Falls for his whole life. He’s in his seventies and now eats every meal at the diner since Ada, his wife of fifty-eight years died last year and this is where he gets his food.
The thing about being a King is knowledge is power. Big Daddy taught me during my time in California that to be a King and control the chaos that comes with our world a man needs to know every player on the board.
Settling in Freedom Falls, Alabama and starting this chapter with Chux years ago, I made it my business to know all the locals. Sure there are outliers like Lucy who move in and it takes some time to learn their history, but as a King knowing every man making roots here is crucial to our success.
Strangers pose a risk to the life of an outlaw. Maintaining control of the area is necessary to keeping our lifestyle. And I’ll do anything to keep my brothers safe from any threat.
Lucy comes back down the counter with the coffee pot again. “You want more?”
I slide my mug toward her. “Sure.”
She pours slowly. “Sorry about him,” she states quietly, almost a whisper.
“Nothing to apologize for.” I tell her the truth. No one needs to apologize for another person’s actions. I don’t know why people do that. I’m a cut and dry man, myself. If I wrong someone, sure it’s on me to apologize and atone. If I didn’t do shit, though, why apologize?
“I just mean, he’s not usually that pushy.” She tries for casual, but the slight tremble in her voice gives it away.