What You See (Sons of the Survivalist #3) - Cherise Sinclair Page 0,65
especially women, is simple. Don’t do or say anything you wouldn’t want to receive from a giant convict named Skull.”
“That’s a different way to look at things, but, yeah, okay.” Harvey eyed Bull. “I’m sorry. I’ll apologize to the servers. You okay with that?”
Bull nodded. “I learned something, too. Make it right with the staff, treat them with respect, and we’re good.”
“Thanks, boss.”
Frankie smiled. Bull really was a good boss.
“Yeah, just don’t start calling me Skull.” Bull rose, then bent to give the dog a rib scratching that made it wiggle happily.
What was there about a man who’d take the time to make a dog happy?
“Time to get cooking, Frankie. Try to impress me with your Italian menu.”
Frankie rose, winked at Harvey, and said, “Sure, Skull. Let’s go.”
When Harvey laughed, she had a feeling things were going to be all right.
As Bull pulled into a garage, Frankie parked her little Toyota in the driveway. And sighed. In the PZ compound, Kit was probably going through hell, and here Frankie was, planning to feed people.
Cazzo, I hate waiting.
The book club had given her the last piece of the puzzle—how to mark a trail at night—as well as the idea about mercenaries. She’d check into the mercenary stuff with her friends back in New York. Just in case she ended up having to call in help.
If everything went to hell, she’d ask Bull for assistance. She’d sparred with him, and he was scarily competent. A military veteran. He’d help; she knew that right down to the bottom of her soul.
Nonetheless, she still had ten more days to practice everything, and hiking in and cutting the fence—just her alone—was the best plan with the least risk to others. Gambling with her own life was her choice. She’d pull in others only if she couldn’t manage on her own.
Sliding out of her car, she walked over to his pickup. “I’ll have you know that my Toyota had a few nasty things to say about your road.”
“Sorry. To discourage people from using our private road to get to the lake, we keep the section near the highway in rough condition.”
“That almost makes sense.” The “Hermitage” was well named.
She frowned. Hadn’t Bull’s cabin been near the other end of the semi-circle of five houses? “This isn’t your place, is it?”
“Nope. This house belonged to the sarge.” Grief filled his dark eyes for a second. “The upstairs was his private quarters, and the downstairs is the communal area for all of us.”
Frankie put her hand on his arm for comfort. “How many is all of us, then?”
Before he could answer, the interior door to the house opened.
“Yay, you’re here. I’m hungry.” Regan, Caz’s daughter, bounded down the three steps, her brown eyes shining. “Hi, Frankie and Uncle Bull. I can carry stuff.”
“Sounds good to me.” Bull tousled the girl’s hair, then picked up the heaviest box and headed for the door. He called over his shoulder, “You can give the kid all the heavy stuff to cart—she’s strong.”
“Hey!” But the girl’s expression said she loved the compliment.
Laughing, Frankie eyed the boxes of food and pulled one forward. “Why don’t you take in the antipasto.”
“The what?”
“It’s an Italian appetizer. If you put the platter out on the table, we can all nibble on it as we unload the rest. And you’ll be first to have a sample.”
The girl’s face lit. “Awesomeness. I got it.”
Regan disappeared into the house.
As Frankie pulled the next box forward, someone reached around her to take it. “Got this one.” It was the tall, hard-faced chief of police. “Welcome, Frankie.”
Gabe gave her a smile and headed away, clearing the space for Audrey.
“Audrey.” Frankie smiled. “I was hoping you’d be here.”
“It’s good to see you again.” Audrey held out her hands for the insulated lasagna container. “In case no one told you, everyone’s thrilled to have something new to eat, both at the restaurant and here today.”
“That’s great to hear.” Frankie hesitated. “Bull said to figure on around eight people for the taste test, only he didn’t mention exactly who they would be.”
“Men.” Audrey rolled her eyes. “There are the four brothers, JJ and me, Regan, and you. How’s that?”
“Perfect. I know almost everyone.” Pleased, Frankie dragged out the freezer box as Audrey moved away with her load.
“Got it.” Hawk, the dangerous-looking blond guy from when she’d been shot hefted the container and walked away.
Huh. Still just as talkative as before.
With a snort, she leaned into the truck bed to pull out another box.