Page 69 of Justice for Radar

“Yeah,” Atlas said and pulled down a mug while Radar told him, “Two creams, two sugars.”

I almost shivered at the determination in Radar’s eyes as he watched me and I went over to him, hugging him. He hugged me back and asked, “What was that for?”

“I needed it,” I murmured, and he nodded, his smile softening the hard look he’d worn.

“Here you go, babe,” Atlas said, and I jumped slightly and turned. He held out my coffee. I took it and drank.

“Thank you,” I said after the first big swallow.

“Welcome.”

“So, um, what’s the plan?” I asked all of them nervously.

“First up, I’m fucking off in that badass truck to find some boxes,” Collier said and twirled Rodney’s key fob on its ring around his index finger.

“We’ve got some people to meet,” Radar said. “So, you stay here with La Croix, and we’ll get to it.”

“Alright,” I murmured, nodding and he came to me, hands on my waist, and kissed me soundly.

I hated watching the trio of them walk out of my house. I watched Radar and Atlas pause at their bikes parked in my back yard and exchange some words with Collier who opened up the side gate and went out.

A moment later I jumped as the bikes started up and in a faint echo, I heard my ex-husband’s truck start in the driveway.

I sighed and turned to La Croix, who fixed me with a surprisingly tranquil, yet extremely unnerving stare with his blacked-out eyes.

“Breakfast?” I asked meekly and he just gave a nod. I forced a bit of a smile and sighed.

“Let’s see what I have,” I murmured.

23

Radar…

We made the meetup first. Pulling in at the burger joint, which was a pretty busy parking lot – I had to say.

“Shit, this ain’t good,” Atlas muttered when we shut off the bikes.

“Too many fuckin’ citizens,” I agreed.

“Think we been set up?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. “Doesn’t feel like it. Maybe they’re just checking us out?”

Atlas nodded judiciously.

“Paranoid types,” he mused. “Plausible. I don’t know how these big multi-national crews work. That ain’t our jam – but I was under the impression when the national charter president told your local chapter’s ass to jump, they’re supposed to ask ‘how high?’ you know?”

“Fucked if I know,” I said with a shrug. “Feels a tad disrespectful, otherwise.”

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry…” he said, and I nodded.

“All I’ve had this morning was a half a cup a coffee and Justice,” I said, and Atlas laughed.

“I’ll get us some food,” he said and jogged over to get in line.

The place was one of those old-school burger drive-in joints where you parked, waited in line and got your shit at the window and went back to your car. To be honest, it reminded me of the concession stand at the old-school drive-in movie theaters. I hadn’t been to one of those joints since I was a kid back in the ‘80s. I wondered if they even still existed outside the spartan dying pockets of Americana…

Like Fairs. There wasn’t any sort of old-school pop-up fairs anymore either. I mean, there were – but not in Florida or around Ft. Royal, anyway. Why when Universal, and the House of Mouse were right up the Interstate?

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