Page 212 of The Last Good Man

I nod.

“No. Not today.”

“Does he come here often?”

“Once in a while,” he says, unsuccessfully trying to snatch the money.

“Do you know where he lives?” I ask, pulling my arm back.

“Lady...?”

His brow creases with frustration as he finally takes the money from my hand.

“He’s not the man to search for if he doesn’t want to see you.”

“Don’t be so preoccupied with me. I need to know where I can findhim.”

“You can’t find him,” he says, shoving the money into his pocket. “Someone like you,” he says, sizing me up, “can’t go where he goes. It’s not safe.”

“What about where he lives?”

“Run a search online. You can findhisaddress, but it won’t help you much. As I said before––”

I flick my hand up, cutting him off.

“Got it. Look…”

I reach inside my purse, and his eyes glisten with interest as if he expects more cash.

“What about we do this. You go inside, get me some food, and bring it to my car. I’ll tip you handsomely if you bring something extra with my food.”

Our eyes stay locked while he ponders.

“What does handsomely mean in your world?”

“Use your brain.”

He purses his lips.

“This is for food,” I say, shoving more cash into his hand. “I’m in the car.”

“What would you like?”

“What I had last time.”

I spin around and rush to the cab,where I instructthe driver to wait some more while the teen vanishes inside the diner.

A few minutes pass, and the kid pushes the door open and heads straight to the car. I open the door, and he hands me my food and a folded napkin.

“You have everything you need in there,” he says, glancing at the driver as if fearful he might be ratted out by him.

I don’t know what kind of business Jax is in, but hesurelyinstills fear in people.

“Thank you for your trouble,” I say, and our hands connect again.

This time, four hundred dollar bills go from me to him.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he says, with a clipped nod, swiftly straightening up before pushing his hand into his pocket and slamming the door shut.

---