Page 8 of Property of Azrael

“You want any more to eat, honey?” she asks in a flirty tone while refilling our glasses. Well, his glass. His glass has never been empty, while ours have been bone ass dry.

“I’m good, thanks.” Fox gulps, his throat bobbing hard enough that I notice. Betty, or so her name tag says, had zeroed in on him.

“Let me know if you want anything else. Cookie has some of her famous pies up in the cooler. Just made a batch of Indiana Sugar Cream pies this morning.”

“You hear that, Fox? Cream pie. Isn’t that your favorite?”

“No,” he growls. “I’m good, thanks.” He shoves the small portion of his meal, still sitting on his plate, away.

“How about you, sugar?” I jump when I realize she’s turned her sights on me. Guess the honeymoon phase is over, and she’s already eyeing the next man.

I shake my head. “Appreciate it, ma’am, but I don’t think I can eat another bite.”

With a nod, she flitters off to the other tables. She lays her hand on the back of the booth behind an older gentleman, leaning in closer the longer they talk.

“Looks like she’s already moved on.”

Fox glares at us. “I hate all you fuckers.”

“You’ll get over it.”

“You ready to get back on the road?” I ask. “Just checked the weather. Looks like we may run into some storms in Arkansas. I’d like to get ahead of them if we can before we stop for the night.”

“Sounds good, Prez. Gonna hit the pisser, and then I’ll be ready.” Van shoves himself out of the booth, pulls out his wallet, and throws some bills onto the table. We all follow suit, and I leave a sizable tip on top of our check. Flashing her a smile as we pass, I tip by head toward the table so she knows to snatch it up. She beams when she spies the two hundred-dollar bills on top of the stack.

“Thanks for the good meal.”

Fox goes to walk by her, and she grabs his arm, stopping him. “Y’all come back now.” He gently removes her hand with a pat and practically speed walks out of the restaurant.

“You sure you don’t want to go back in there? She probably has a break coming up,” Van teases when he joins us at the bikes, flinging his thumb back toward the building. “I’ll be your lookout if you wanna take her out back.”

“Fuck all y’all,” he retorts with an angry scowl on his face. “Let’s just go. I’ll get some fucking peace and quiet back on the road without the fucking peanut gallery.” Fox pulls on his gear and hits the ignition on his bike.

Van walks over to his bike, which just so happens to be parked next to Fox’s. He mounts it, straps on his helmet, and slides on his sunglasses. “Don’t worry, man. I gave her your number when I walked out.”

Fox flips him off before peeling out of the parking lot and onto the road.

Orion throws back his head and laughs. “He may not talk to us for the rest of the trip.”

“Why do you think I said that? He may like the peace and quiet of the road, but y’all aren’t the ones sharing a room with him. Chatty Cathy never shuts up, not even in his sleep. At least this way, I may actually get some shut-eye on this trip.”

With a shake of my head, I take off to catch up with Fox.

It’s going to be a long fucking week in Mexico with these guys—a long fucking week.

Back on the road, I let myself get lost in the ride again, shutting out the world and letting myself relax until the skies ahead of us grow ominous. A brisk wind picks up the longer we ride, and I signal for the guys to look up at the sky. Seems like we’re heading into that weather I saw earlier. Riding in adverse weather is dangerous with a bike. All it would take is a pool of water on the road, and we’d be ass over teakettle. I signal the guys again to pull over, and we find a spot underneath an overpass to pull off.

“What do you wanna do, Prez?” Orion asks. “Sky looks pretty angry.”

Pulling my phone from my pocket, I bring up my weather app. Warnings lie ahead of us.

“We’ve got to find a place to stop for the night.”

Fox gets on his phone. “On it.”

“Az.” Looking up, I gaze up the road to where Asher is pointing to a silver car sitting off to the side about a quarter of a mile ahead, the hood up. As it’s not an uncommon sight along the highway, I look back over at my brother and shrug.

“It’s an abandoned car.”

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