Page 8 of Fastlander Fighter

Ruger collected shifter cards. They were kind of like the basketball cards of her youth, but had pictures of the human sides on the front, and the animals on the back. He liked the hologram ones, so she’d spent a silly amount of money shopping for just the right ones for him over the last couple of years. The bears were his favorite. The bears and the boars, and all he’d wanted for Christmas was the collector’s edition of Damon Daye’s card, so she knew he had a soft spot for the dragons too.

He liked the monsters.

So had she.

“It’ll be a drive, buddy, but we can try new foods, and you can climb on these rocks I saw next to the restaurant, and there is a playground.”

“I want to go.”

She checked the rearview, gauging his smile, and then nodded. “We’re going then. We’ll even stay up a little late tonight, okay?”

“Yeah!”

“They even have something called a mud pie.”

“I love mud!”

She laughed, and it all came rushing back—her happiness.

God, she loved her son. She was a phantom when he was away from her, but when she was with him?

She was okay.

Chapter Four

“Captain.”

“Busy,” Captain gritted out, moving six huge foil-wrapped briskets farther to the back of the big smoker. He needed to work on this one before the weekend rush. The heat was too intense, and he was struggling to figure out the temperature on the new smokers. He was going to have to work on this big one and adjust it completely tonight, after close, but for now he was going to have to make the best of it.

“Captain!” Hallie called.

He moved three more back, burned his hand and flinched back, then kept rearranging meat.

Something hit him in the back of the head. A spatula?

“I’ll murder you and your mate,” he promised as he turned around.

“Your coupon was just cashed,” Hallie said. “Table ten.”

Wait, what? That meant Sloane was here. “Ten?” he repeated, shocked.

“Ten! Here’s her food if you want to take it out to her. I told her we were waiting on fresh mac and cheese,” Hallie said in a rush. She shoved the tray of food over and gestured for the next customer to approach the counter.

“Shane,” he said to the kid running by him. “I need a break.”

“Sir! It’s the rush!”

“You have to get used to the rush, boy!”

“Fine! Five minutes!”

Captain straightened his spine and arched his eyebrows up at the boy. “You don’t tell me five minutes, apprentice. If I need an hour break, you fuckin’ handle it, do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Shane uttered as he rushed by and opened a smoker lid to check the temperature of the baked potatoes.

A part of him was proud of Shane, because he knew where he came from and it was rough. Captain nodded, because it wasn’t his way to tell him what a good job he was doing. He needed to learn to earn respect.

Quietly though, Captain was a little proud of him. He was going to handle the rush—sink or swim.

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