Page 26 of Heathen

"What are you doing?" she asks when I pull into a fast-food place.

"Aren't you hungry?"

She glares at me.

"It could take days if not weeks to find your friend. Are you planning to starve yourself until then? I doubt they've fed you anything worth eating. Those other women look like they haven't eaten in weeks. They were all so damned skinny."

She looks down at herself, that ridiculous gold dress catching the afternoon sun.

"Don't even," I warn, seeing the thoughts forming in her mind. "I wasn't calling you fat."

"It's only because I'm so short," she mutters, wrapping her arms around her waist.

I see fire, rage bubbling inside of me.

I slide across the seat and get right in her face, one hand at her hip and the other bracketing her in with my palm on the passenger side window.

"You're fucking perfect," I growl. "Anyone who has said anything different is a piece of shit. Understand me?"

She snaps her head back as far as the seat will allow as her eyes dart between mine, swallowing a few times before she speaks.

"How do you not know you have a speck of pepper between your two front teeth?"

The laughter bubbles out of me before I can stop it, but on my way back to my own seat, I get close to the rearview mirror and check. There's literally nothing between my teeth. I haven't eaten today and I'm very thorough when I brush my teeth.

"Such an asshole," I mutter, catching the smile that threatens on her cheeks before she shuts it down. "Are you hungry?"

"Starving," she confesses. "There's actually a really great taco place just down the block," she says, pointing toward the right.

I pull out of the burger joint parking lot and drive to the Delicioso Taco.

"Drive-thru or inside?"

"Drive-thru," she says. "They kept my wallet. I don't have any of my stuff. No money, no license, no social security card."

"You don't have to worry about money," I assure her. "I asked Dima about the other stuff, and he said he's planning on keeping it safe for you."

"Such an asshole," she whispers. "I'll keep track of what I owe you."

"What you owe me?"

"For the food, and whatever else," she says. "I don't like owing people."

"So you want me to add the fifteen thousand to that?"

Her eyes grow wide. "Excuse me?"

"That's what it cost to marry you. Oh, and the hundred-and-two-dollar license fee."

"Shit," she mutters, making me smile again.

"I said you don't owe me anything. How many tacos?"

She chews the inside of her lip before replying.

I lean out the window and speak into the box when the person inside prompts me for my order. "I'd like five crunchy tacos with extra cheese and a side of frijoles. Wife?"

She narrows her eyes once again. "I'll have the same."

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