Page 39 of Siren's Salvation

It's a dive, but sometimes those are the best places.

As we slide into a booth, a weathered waitress shuffles over.

"What can I getcha?" she asks, not bothering with pleasantries.

I grin at Siren. "Ladies first."

She studies the menu for a moment. "I'll have the biggest, greasiest burger you've got. Extra cheese, extra bacon. And a chocolate milkshake."

I whistle low. "Damn, girl. Where do you put it all?"

Siren winks. "Gotta keep my energy up to deal with you."

The waitress looks unimpressed. "And for you, sugar?"

"I'll have the same. But make mine a strawberry shake."

As the waitress walks away, Siren leans forward, elbows on the table. "Strawberry, huh? Wouldn't have pegged you for a fruity drink kinda guy."

I shrug. "What can I say? I'm full of surprises."

"That you are," she murmurs, something softer in her gaze.

I clear my throat, suddenly feeling exposed. "So, uh, you grew up around here?"

Siren shakes her head. "Nah, I'm a New York girl, born and raised. You damn well know that. Nothin’ about this accent screams Montana. Me and my sister came out here a few years back, after we met Zane at that meeting."

"The Bronx, right?" At her surprised look, I add, "Cobra mentioned it."

She nods. "Yeah, not exactly the nicest neighborhood. But it was home."

I can see the walls going up, sense there's more to the story.

But I don't push.

We've all got our demons.

"What about you?" she asks. "You don't strike me as a Vegas native."

I lean back, stretching an arm across the back of the booth. "Good eye. I'm Texas born and bred. Little town called Sharp."

Siren's eyes widen. "No shit? I've heard of it. Isn't that where?—"

"The Shotgun Saints MC is based? Yeah." I keep my tone casual, but my shoulders tense.

She studies me for a moment. "Huh. Small world."

I shrug, aiming for nonchalance. "It's a small town. Everyone knows everyone's business."

Siren opens her mouth to say more, but our food arrives.

I've never been so grateful for the distraction of a burger in my life.

We dig in, conversation falling away as we devour our meals.

Siren wasn't kidding about keeping her energy up—she demolishes that burger like it personally offended her.

"Enjoying that?" I ask, amused.

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