“Yep!” Everett said. “Emotional supp?—”
“Oh my God, cats!” one of the other boys shoved his friend out of the way so he could get up from the bench. “Let me see!” He crouched in front of Patches’s carrier, his movements surprisingly nimble in those black skinny jeans and tightly-laced knee-high boots.
“Aiden. God.” One of the others scoffed and rolled his black-lined eyes. “You’re not supposed to bug working animals!”
The one called Aiden froze, hand still outstretched, and looked up at me. He was sheepish as hell, and I wondered if he was blushing beneath all that white makeup.
“Uh.” I cleared my throat. “It’s fine. They’re off-duty.”
I had a split second to worry I’d just tipped our hand to the hostess, but her give-a-fuck had clearly clocked out ages ago. She shrugged, put down our menus, and told us she’d be back with coffee.
Meanwhile, the Goth kids all piled out of their booth, cooing and smiling as they let the cats sniff their fingers.
“Man, I wish my mom would let me get a cat,” one said as Patches licked her finger.
“Parents are fascists,” another declared while scratching behind Jeff’s ear.
That was when I got an idea. I glanced over my shoulder. A car was pulling into the parking lot, and I thought it was Colin’s wife’s Toyota. He was here. And Reardon was hunting for us. And he’d probably radioed other cops to search for us. Which meant there was a chance—and I hoped it was averyslim one—that things could get ugly. I didn’t want my cats in the middle of it, and I also didn’t want to be distracted by them.
Facing the Goth kids, I whispered, “Hey, can you guys keep on eye on them? I, uh…” I nodded toward the parking lot. “We’ve got some shit to deal with, I don’t want them getting tangled up in it.”
Instantly, they were talking over each other with more liveliness than I’d ever imagined coming from this group.
“Hell, yeah! We’ll watch the cats!”
“Come sit with us, kitties! We’ve got bacon!” Beat. “Can they eat bacon?”
“They can eat bacon, yes. And thank you so much.”
“Don’t mention it.”
We handed over the carriers, and the kids made quick work of hiding them. Jeff was beneath a black trench coat between two of the boys, and Patches was under a pile of purses and hats.
The mix of cooing and pspspsing along with “we’re hiding fugitives!” and “fuck the police!” would’ve been hilarious if I wasn’t so damn scared.
At least my cats were relatively safe, and the kids were slipping them pieces of bacon, which kept them quiet.
“Keep your heads down, okay?” I whispered.
They all nodded. Someone leaned over a bit to shield Jeff even more.
Man. If we made it through this, the Goth kids’ coffee was on me for ayear.
Colin came in the front of the restaurant and looked around. When he saw us, he started in our direction, his expression grim.
“What the fuck happened?” he demanded as he slid into the booth next to me. “I told you two to stay?—”
“Reardon found us,” I hissed.
Colin’s eyes went wide and he blanched.“What?”
“My guess?” I shrugged. “He and his boys knew either you or Dad would try to hide us.” I tipped my head toward the parking lot. “That’s why I told you to bring Tess’s car. I think there’s a tracker on yours.”
His lips parted, and he turned to Everett as if for confirmation.
Everett nodded like,duh, dude, what did you think happened?
Colin shook himself and turned to me. “How did you guys get back here, then?”