Page 57 of Cruel Love

“Parked?”

We turn the corner and I smile at the taco truck on the other end of the street.

“Parked,” I repeat.

Archer reads the side of the truck as we walk closer. “Hot Sauce?” he asks.

“Yep.”

“It’s a taco truck, mate.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Your man works in a taco truck named Hot Sauce?”

“Best damn steak burrito in town.”

His lips twitch. “It’s a front, isn’t it?”

I snap my fingers. “Bingo. Sell tacos and burritos out the front to the public. Run money, stolen goods, and other fun things out the back for the local Irish mob. The truck makes it so he’s constantly moving, always inconspicuous, and never suspected.”

He laughs quietly. “I knew a bloke in Sheffield who did the same thing back in my MI-6 days.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“He sold pasties.”

I smirk. “Big market for nipple covers in England?”

“No, you stupid American…”

“I’m kidding, Arch. I know what a pasty is.”

He sighs. “Bloody hell.”

We approach the truck and I look up to see a familiar face poking out the window. He chats up an adorable blonde while a short line lingers nearby, waiting to be served.

Milo Murray. Short, brown hair and a permanent smirk. Whatever he’s dishing out, this girl is taking but that’s always been easy for him and his multi-colored eyes to pull off.

After a moment, he looks over at me and grins.

“Boxcar!”

I raise my hand. “Hey, Milo.”

He reaches down and gently nudges the girl’s chin, making her blush as he whispers something for her ears only. She walks off and his eyes jump from me to Archer as he waves us to the front of the line.

“What can I get for you?” he asks.

“Just the special I called in for,” I say.

He tilts his head at Archer. “What’s with the bodyguard? Who’d you piss off this time?”

“Nobody. This is my friend, Archer. He’s cool. Archer, this is Milo.”

“Hello,” Archer says.

Milo’s jaw drops. “A Brit?”

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