Protect Read Free Page B

at
all.
    “I like to think of it as the perfect cover.
Like no one had any plan to be there, but nowhere to be that was
all that important. So fucked up it had to be a pleasure ride for
all us.”
    “Would have been nice to know that was
actually the plan,” Fritter had to agree. “I was sweating bullets,
too.”
    “The reaction had to be authentic.” Tiny was
still grinning as the waitress set down their beers.
    “ Panic had to be authentic?” Buck
mumbled before taking a sip off his bottle.
    “When you get off, honey?” Knuckles asked the
waitress before she could leave their table. For his part, Fritter
let his eyes linger on the neck of her uniform. Her breasts were
high and pushed together in a way that defied gravity. She caught
him but he kept his face stoic, letting her know he was
looking.
    Her return glance was just as indifferent,
then she shot Knuckles a sunny-California smile. “I get off when I
get home to my boyfriend, thanks for asking.”
    The table collapsed into laughter as she
sauntered away, and Knuckles had to give her a small salute as she
turned back to chuckle at his cheesy pick-up attempt.
    “You’re getting too old for that shit,”
Fritter told him, taking a pull on his beer.
    “Is that right, youngin’? You’re getting past
your prime, too.”
    Fritter shook his head. “Nah. Still got
plenty in me.”
    “Bullshit. Over thirty is supposed to be the
downward slope.”
    “I’ll take your word for that.”
    Now Knuckles stare was a downright challenge.
“What are you saying?”
    “Cut this out,” Tank warned.
    “You know what I’m saying, old man,” Fritter
goaded, leaning across the table towards Knuckles. “Let me eat my
dinner, then I’ll show you how you get a woman like that.” He
jerked his head towards the lunch counter where the waitress was
now serving coffee to the long-haul truckers.
    Knuckles’ grin was maniacal. “There’s no
fucking way.”
    “Oh, it’s already started.”
    “Fuck,” Mickey sighed, like the fight had
already happened.
    “Bull. Shit.”
    Fritter’s grin was slow, because he knew that
was the best way to piss off Knuckles; show him his quiet rage had
no effect. “I’m hitting that. Fuck dinner. I’m hitting it before
the food gets here.”
    Knuckles hand went out. “Fifty bucks says
there’s no way.”
    “A hundred says yes.”
    “Fine, a hundred.”
    Fritter nodded to their Vice President,
handshake done. “You in, Tank?”
    The huge bear of a man chuckled. “No way. I’m
too grown up for school yard bets.”
    “Hundred bucks on Fritter,” Mickey threw in,
sounding resigned. “Sorry Knuckles, but he was getting the eye even
after you hit on her.”
    “Hundred on Knuckles,” Tiny said, setting his
beer down.
    “You guys are so fucked up,” Buck
muttered.
    “Who’s your money on?”
    Buck leveled an unimpressed look at Knuckles.
“I have no fucking idea. I ain’t betting on this shit.” Then his
look of disdain softened. “Fine. Hundred on Fritter.”
    “What the hell, man?” Knuckles actually
sounded hurt, but Fritter was already getting to his feet and
heading for the front door of the diner. On the way he caught the
waitresses’ eye. He stopped, blatantly gave her the up and down,
and her cheeks went pink. He bit his lip and raised his eyebrows.
She nodded, head tilting towards the kitchen. He nodded and went
out the front doors, circling around the building to the back.
There were a few of those plastic crates on the ground positioned
around a coffee can, overstuffed with cigarette butts. Ah, staff
room for the smokers.
    He toed the coffee can as the door to his
left opened. It was their waitress, and the second she saw him she
was all business. “I only have fifteen.”
    He nodded, cock hard, undoing his belt
already. “Plenty of time, darlin’.”
    She nodded, backing up to the wall and
letting him into her personal space. She tasted like coffee as he
kissed her, fast and hot, her hands pulling at his