Doin' A Dime (Souls Chapel Revenants MC 4)

“Yes,” I answered immediately. “Now? Or do you want me to wait a little bit until lunchtime?”

She waved her hand away. “They serve lunch all day long. It just takes longer. And if you don’t mind going now, I would be super, duper happy.”

I grinned and glanced at the search I was doing.

I was scanning the man’s financial records to try to get an idea of where he was at. But so far, no hits had come on any of his usual means of payment.

That likely meant that when he was on the job, the man paid in cash so he couldn’t be tracked back to a place.

Which was smart, because otherwise someone could do what I’m doing now and find him and track him anywhere he ever happened to go.

Leaving the page up, I picked up my phone and shoved it into my pocket.

Once I was up, I headed toward where she was standing in the door looking at me.

Her face was full of flames, which meant that she likely more than remembered the night before.

Stopping in front of her, I tilted my head slightly.

“You know that you’re mine?” I asked.

She swallowed and nodded. “I do.”

“You gonna stay living here?” I asked.

She nodded. “I am.”

“You gonna let me marry you again? This time in front of everyone?” I kept at it.

She didn’t say anything this time, just gave me a fierce nod.

“You love me?”

Her breath hitched. “I do.”

I grinned then and dropped a kiss onto her upturned mouth. “I love you, too.”

A weak laugh left her. “I know. You made me understand your intentions last night.”

I pulled her in by cupping her ass, making sure that she felt the erection tenting my pants.

“I’ll see you in about thirty minutes,” I said.

She grinned at me weakly. “Okay. Be careful.”

I gave her a look.

“It’s not me that has a hit out on me,” I pointed out. “Plus, I think I can handle my own.”

Turns out, I could handle my own up to a certain point.

• • •

I used my phone app to order our food as I sat in the parking lot and waited for it to arrive.

I was deep in thought, my eyes on the phone in my hands, and not the area surrounding me, so that had to be why I allowed them to get as close as they did.

Then again, there was only a certain amount of ‘not paying attention’ I did.

Before prison, I would’ve been so engrossed in my phone, or my computer, that I wouldn’t have even paid the three men any attention at all.

AP—after prison—that wasn’t the case.

I was more than aware that they were there in the truck beside me as I waited.

That had to be why I allowed it to happen at all—them getting that close to me.

At first, I thought that they were waiting for their food like me.

I was trying to follow a movement on the identity I’d filched from the hit man’s computer, engrossed in that, when one of the men got out of the truck at the next space over and walked toward the door.

He handed the woman cash, but she shook her head. “I’m sorry, but we’re not able to accept cash in that large of bill amounts after a certain point in the day.”

The man scowled. “I only have a hundred-dollar bill at the moment.”

She looked torn, but ultimately stood her ground. “You can pay on the app! But I’m sorry, we can’t take hundred-dollar bills.”

The man scowled hard. “Shit.”

The young woman frowned, taking a step back at the look on the man’s face.

That’s what got my full attention.

“I’m hungry,” he growled. “I haven’t eaten in twenty-four hours. I’ve driven six hours straight. And you’re telling me you don’t accept cash.”

I looked at the girl who was wincing. “I’m really sorry, sir.”

The man hissed in frustration, looking sort of torn.

Then he reluctantly reached into his pocket and produced a credit card. A credit card not in his wallet.

I frowned hard.

The woman smiled and hurried back inside.

The man scowled and headed back to his truck just as my food came out.

Just as she was handing me my drinks my phone pinged, signaling an alarm.

The hit man had used his credit card.

I quickly took the food and the drinks, and shoved them unceremoniously into the saddlebags, knowing that the fries were spilling and not giving one single shit.

“Thank you,” I said on autopilot.

“My pleasure.” The woman replied, then handed the man in the truck beside me his credit card back.

She was just reaching the door when the details of the transaction hit my phone.

Chick-Fil-A.

Son of a bitch.

I looked over at the man in the truck beside me, caught the license plates on his truck and saw that they matched the state that the hit man was from. Cataloged the man’s reply of ‘just traveled six hours’ and knew that was synonymous with the length of time it would take to get from Oklahoma to here.