Page 7 of Dancin' with Demons

“What can I get you guys tonight?”

“What’s the best burger y’all got?” Trickster says, leanin’ on the table toward Raylynn.

I sit back against the booth, very calmly put my hand on his chest, and push him back into his seat. “Stay.”

He tilts his head and rolls his eyes. “You want to go ahead and just put a leash on her now, Renegade?”

I open my mouth to say somethin’, but Raylynn laughs, and my eyes go right back to her. Fuck, I love that sound. “I remember you. You were a prospect the last time I saw you, though, right?”

Trickster gives her a big ol’ grin and nods. “Sure was. Got patched in not long after you left.”

“Congrats,” she says, her eyes dartin’ to me again. “And to answer your question, The Rodeo Burger is the best, hands down. Two patties, pepper jack cheese, sautéed onions, mushrooms, all the other fixin’s, on a grilled bun.”

“I’ll take that,” he says, slappin’ the tabletop.

Catacomb and Sandra order, and then Raylynn turns her attention back to me.

“Surprise me,” I say, and have to keep from groanin’ when she bites her bottom lip.

“Okay,” she says softly. “Give us a few, and I’ll have everythin’ out to you as soon as possible. Troy’s the only one in the kitchen tonight, though, so it might take a little longer than usual.”

“No worries, hon,” Catacombs says. “We ain’t in a rush.”

Raylynn turns away from the table and stops at several others as she makes her way to the window behind the counter to put our order in. When she turns around and chats with the customers sittin’ there on the stools, I watch her like a fuckin’ stalker. She really is a thousand times more beautiful than I remember. The way her smile reaches her eyes now . . . that is somethin’ I never saw in the days we were together.

“Renegade,” Catacomb says, breakin’ my trance on the vixen across the room, “don’t scare her.”

For the next thirty minutes, I watch her every move as she takes care of other customers and eventually brings our food back. Settin’ a plate in front of me, I glance from it to her.

She smiles with closed lips and shrugs. “Island Dream. Thought it might be more up your alley.”

Before I can get a word out, she’s gone again, back to takin’ care of damn near every table in the place. Our group chats while we eat, but mostly, I listen and keep my eyes on Raylynn the whole time. She isn’t wrong about the food, either. The Island Dream is a grilled chicken sandwich with pineapple barbecue sauce, lettuce, tomato, bacon, and black olives with provolone cheese, and it’s good as hell.

Several tables leave, and I watch Raylynn as she clears ‘em, never once showin’ any signs of bein’ tired or anythin’. I can tell she’s earned Edna’s praise from earlier tonight. She’s a hard worker and takes pride in what she does. That’s clear from the way the customers smile at her regardless of what table she’s at. Stoppin’ by our table again, she reaches her right hand across me to grab Trickster’s empty plate, and I glance down in time to notice the scar on her wrist. Before I can stop myself, my hand darts out and grabs her wrist.

She freezes as I run my thumb over the raised skin that still clearly says,‘Happy Birthday,’— a gift from the fuckin’ Havoc Ryders when they had her. Her shutterin’ breath makes me look up, and my fuckin’ chest aches at the tears in her eyes this time.

“Raylynn,” I whisper as she takes another shutterin’ breath.

“Thank you,” she says softly, my thumb still movin’ back and forth across the scar. “I never said that to you, and I should’ve.”

I squeeze her wrist just a little before lettin’ it go. “No thanks necessary, little love.”

As soon as the pet name is out of my mouth, her lip quivers, and she bites down on it again. Clearin’ her throat, she grabs Trickster’s plate and then mine, balancin’ ‘em in her left hand as she reaches in her apron and pulls out our bill, layin’ it face down on the edge of the table before grabbin’ Sandra and Catacomb’s plates.

“It was good seein’ you all,” she says as she stands, “have a good night.”

As she turns, I grab the bill before Catacomb can and sit forward to pull my wallet out of my pocket. I think everyone knows better than to say anythin’ to me because as I stand and open my wallet, the other three slide out of the booth and head for the door. Takin’ the stack of hundreds out, I toss ‘em on the table with the bill and head outside. If I stay in here another second, I’m gonna drag her outside, pin her against a wall, and show her just why she never should’ve ran on me, and the look in her eyes tells me that might be the thing that scares her.

Shovin’ the diner door open, I almost jog down the steps and head for the truck. I’m not even all the way to it when her voice calls my name from behind me. Spinnin’ around, I almost chuckle at the anger on her face. She comes right up to me and slams her hand against my chest, holdin’ the money I left until I bring my hand up and grab it so she can move her hand back. Out of the corner of my eye, Catacomb, Trickster, and Sandra are standin’ by the front of the truck, watchin’ us.

“I don’t need fuckin’ handouts, Renegade,” she snaps loudly, and I’d be lyin’ if I said this little show or aggression wasn’t sexy as fuck.

“It’s not a handout, Raylynn.” I do my best to keep my voice calm and steady.

She rolls her eyes. “Damn it, Renegade. Five hundred dollars on a thirty-dollar bill is a damn handout, and you know it. Hookers get paid less around here.”

Lickin’ my lips, I fold the stack of bills in half and step forward so that there’s less than half a foot between me and Raylynn. Leanin’ down, I put my lips next to her ear as I slide the money into her apron. “You’re gonna take the money, little love, and not argue with me again. And fair warnin’, you and I are gonna be seein’ each other again real soon because we got some shit to talk about.”

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