Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 128812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 515(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 515(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
I also know that we can't talk completely freely. Since we got in this damn thing ten minutes ago and made it out of the compound, I've been trying to figure out how to explain what's going on to Zeus without risking exposure if someone from The League is also listening in.
"You seem confused," I mutter as I hit my blinker to take the next left toward town.
"Where are we going?" he asks, allowing me to give Casper info.
"Jim's Lube and Oil," I answer. "You know how testy this piece of shit gets when I don't keep a regular maintenance schedule on it. We're about fifteen minutes out. What's with the fucking attitude?"
I glare at him as I slow for a school bus to turn into an elementary school.
"Not enough coffee this morning?" I prod when he just stares back at me.
"Speaking of the food," he mutters, finally engaging. "We may need to stop and get some fucking seasoning. Tastes like cardboard."
I chuckle. I mean, I can't tell him the best meal prepared by the best chefs would still taste that way if it were being served by trafficked women.
"We can make a stop," I agree, loving the segue. "After we handle League business."
"You know I'm not the quickest fucking person to catch on," he says. "So, can you explain exactly what we're doing today? I might actually be fucking helpful if I had a clue what a cozy place for some friends meant."
"Just what it means," I say, unable to give him the real description. "He needs a place for some folks to stay. Some place they feel comfortable."
"They can't stay at the yard?" he asks, his mouth clamping closed when I glance at him in warning.
"That's probably not a good idea," I say, ending the conversation.
The rest of the drive to Jim's is silent, and when we pull up, the truck is barely parked before Zeus pops out and walks off. I have no fucking clue where he's headed, but he disappears around the edge of the building without looking back.
Frustration crawls all around inside of me. He seems a little too hot-headed to do this type of job, but it's not my place to tell Cerberus who or what is best for their missions. The guys in New Mexico have literally been doing this for decades, and I have to defer to their judgment.
I head inside, swallowing against the smell of grease and body odor that slaps me in the face the second I open the door.
The floor is slick in places, and in others, my boots crunch over what looks like cat litter, their solution to tracking in oil from the bays.
"Need an oil change?" the guy asks from behind the scarred counter. "I'm out of premium."
"My truck is a junker, man," I tell him with an easy-going smile. "She'd probably die if you tried to use that hippie shit on her."
He gives me a wide, yellowed grin as he accepts the keys.
"Give me about twenty."
"Sounds perfect. Have a restroom?"
He tilts his head toward a door on the far wall before heading outside to grab my truck.
I should probably be a little uneasy when I open the door to the restroom to find a guy standing in there. He looks hard as nails, scary as hell, and like a man not willing to take shit from anyone. The way he narrows his eyes at me makes me wonder if he'd even cut his own momma some slack if she made an error in front of him.
"Nyx," I say as I close us into the too-small restroom.
"Casper wanted me to let you know they're sweeping the truck for bugs," he says, his voice gruff and tinged with a pissed-off attitude as if he thinks he drew the short straw having to meet me in here. "If they find them, they'll leave them, but we'll let you know. Here."
He drops the phone in my hand before I can fully get a grip on the damn thing.
He grins, or at least what might be mistaken as a grin. It looks more like a scowl, as if he's mildly disappointed I didn't drop the damn thing.
"It's a burner," he says as if he has to explain shit to me. "Any news?"
"Regina Banks is on the property. She's been hurt, but she's still up and walking around."
The left corner of his upper lip twitches, and that's what Cerberus sees in this man. He looks like he'd rather cut you off at the knees than shake your hand, but it's clear that, like the rest of us, he has a very low tolerance for people who hurt others, especially women and children.
"That it?" he growls, sounding more than a little disappointed.
"Cut me some fucking slack," I hiss, noting the surprise in his face that I have the balls to stand up to him.