“I need to use the restroom.”
He sighed.
Two liter cup of coffee.
Jesus.
“We been on the road two hours,” he pointed out.
“You are correct but that doesn’t change my need to use the facilities.”
“Next time, you get a coffee the size of mine.”
“I have a small bladder.”
She didn’t have a small anything, thank Christ.
“You drank a two liter of coffee.”
“It was hardly two liters, Ty.”
“A liter and a half.”
“Are you trying to be a pain in my ass?”
“No,” he straight out lied.
“I’m rethinking my ‘I do’,” she muttered and he grinned at the windshield not knowing his wife had her head bent to her iPod selecting his next torment and missed it and also not knowing she would have given him fifty K in order to see it.
Then straight on hillbilly music filled the car and some had-to-be white man started singing about a man called Amos Moses.
“Jesus,” he groaned and when he did, he heard his wife giggle.
Since he was listening to hillbilly music, he wasted no time finding a restroom for her but as he hit the exit off the highway and Lexie bent to strap on the sandals she’d taken off, he looked in the rearview mirror, saw the SUV follow and his mouth got tight.
Bag of Bones had disappeared at the Utah/Colorado border and the SUV had taken his place. Fuller’s California connection was off-duty, the local boys had been sent in.
They either expected him to make trouble, they wanted to make trouble for him or they wanted to make a point. No matter what the f**king reason, he didn’t like it.
He hit a gas station and decided to fill up so as not to totally waste this waste of time so he guided the Charter to a pump. He was angling out his side as Lexie folded out of hers when his phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket, looked at his display, flipped it open and put it to his ear.
“Tate, can you hang on a second?” he said into it, eyes on Lexie strutting to the building.
“Yeah,” Tate replied.
Then he took the phone from his ear, whistled, Lexie stopped and turned to him.
“Money,” he called across the fifteen feet that separated them.
“I got it,” she called back.
“Money,” he repeated.
“Ty, I got it,” she repeated.
“Woman,” he growled and knew by the slight upward shift of her chin she’d rolled her eyes to the heavens behind her shades then she strutted to him.
He shoved his hand in his back pocket and slapped some bills in the opened palm she’d stretched over the car door.