Page 18 of Kyle

“Yep. Just a little over seven miles.”

“They didn’t go far, did they?”

“Why should they? I’m sure they figured they’d never get caught.”

“From Machado Almonds to Las Vegas is 470 miles, seven hours via I5 and I15. If they take the back roads, it’s 508 miles and a little over nine hours.”

“Maybe they’re going closer,” I suggest.

Cole checks his app. “It’s about 280 miles to Los Angeles, about four hours and forty-five minutes. Just under a hundred miles to San Jose, about an hour and a half drive. San Francisco is about the same.”

“Lots of places they could be headed,” Crash mutters. “My guess is LA.”

“We’ll see,” Cole replies.

“What the hell are we supposed to do out here until midnight?” Billy asks.

“It’s almost three now. You really want to haul ass to San Jose just to turn around in a couple of hours and ride back?” Cole replies.

“Guess not.”

“Machado said you can wait at his place until nightfall. Maybe his daughter will bake you a pie or something,” Cole teases with a wink and a kissy face.

“If there’s nothing I need to do with the club, I can work tonight, but I’ll need to get going soon, so I can have the food truck ready for the dinner crowd,” I say.

Cole nods and picks up the check. “Let’s hit the road.”

We leave TJ and Billy at the diner and head to San Jose.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Kyle—

I’m busy as hell trying to keep up with the line at the food truck, when my brother sticks his smiling face in the window.

“Bro, what’s cookin’?” He’s so fucking funny.

“Hey, Rafe. What are you doing here?” My eyes go over his head to where Sutton stands behind him. She’s wearing a tank top with a sweater over it, and a pair of shorts and Uggs. Her blonde curls are in pigtail knots on top of her head. She looks adorable, in a college coed sort of way. I force myself to drag my eyes away.

Rafe peers in. “Looks like you’re working all alone. I can help you out with that.” He loops his arm around Sutton and tugs her forward. “Give her a chance, man. She’s a hard worker.”

I huff a laugh. How would he know if she’s a hard worker?

“Hey, mister. Where’s my order? I’ve been waiting twenty minutes,” a customer complains.

“I’ll have it right out.” I sigh and turn to Rafe. “Okay. Fine. She can help me tonight, and we’ll see how it goes.”

“Fantastic. You won’t regret it, Kyle.”

I’m regretting it already, but I meet them at the rear door, just in time to witness my brother kissing her goodbye. “I’ll be back to pick you up. Just call.”

I hold out my hand and help her into the truck, then toss an apron at her chest. “You ever cook?”

“Um, sure. I cook.”

I give her a look. “Know how to chop stuff?”

“Sure.”

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