Part 5 (2/2)
She plucked a menu from the silver metal stand by the window. Over the years, she'd eaten in countless places like this one, and they all ran together after a while. After a thirty-second perusal, she decided on the Country Scramble: eggs, bacon, and sausage all fried up together and topped with yummy white gravy, biscuits on the side, of course. Her mouth watered just thinking about it.
A perky blond waitress bounced over. ”What can I get you folks?”
”Fruit and yogurt,” Rey said. ”Topped with granola if you have it. Plain whole wheat toast, no b.u.t.ter.”
Kyra raised a brow. ”On a health kick?”
He shrugged. ”Just tired of fried eggs, I guess.”
”You're gonna be sorry when you see my biscuits.”
”I've already seen 'em,” he murmured. ”But I wouldn't mind another look.”
Was he flirting with her? Her smile widened. ”So tell me a little about yourself. How does a guy get to be your age, totally unenc.u.mbered?”
He met her look levelly. ”I could ask you the same thing.”
”You could, but you didn't.”
”Fair enough.”
The waitress arrived with their drinks: coffee for her, herbal tea for him. Kyra was starting to notice he avoided caffeine and sugar whenever possible. It was an interesting quirk in someone down on his luck. Generally people without financial recourse would order the cheapest items, not the healthiest. Rey added a squirt of lemon, no sweetener, and took an experimental sip. If Kyra didn't know better, she'd think he was stalling.
”Well?” she demanded.
”It's not bad.” The amus.e.m.e.nt in his dark eyes said he knew she was losing patience, and that he found it entertaining.
”Not the tea. What's your story?”
”So you want my life story at Stuckey's? Not very atmospheric.”
”It's Gayle's Gas-N-Go, actually,” she corrected. ”And if you don't want to tell me, just say so.”
He thought about that for a moment, long dark fingers tracing a pattern against the scarred tabletop. ”Okay,” he said at last.
”So you don't want to?” Her good mood evaporated.
”Is that so surprising? Would you spill all your secrets to me me over pancakes?” over pancakes?”
”Probably not,” she admitted.
”Well, there you go. Trust takes time. I won't be telling you everything until I'm sure you won't use the information against me.” His mouth curved into an ironic half smile. ”I'm sure you've heard the saying-familiarity breeds contempt-and all that.”
”I don't think it would,” she found herself saying. ”The more I get to know you, the more I like.”
Something sparked in his eyes. Kyra couldn't decipher the expression, but for a moment, she thought he might reach across the table for her. She scooted back, knowing that would be disastrous for the day's take. Rey narrowed his eyes, scowling at the implied insult, but before he could ask, the waitress delivered their food and they ate in silence. She felt sad and sick, but she couldn't explain why she'd recoiled.
Half an hour later, Kyra took the ramp back to the interstate, a charcoal gray ribbon bounded in white lines that cut through the center of some bad country. This part of Texas sure is ugly. This part of Texas sure is ugly. The scrubby land was uniformly dry and brown, broken only by occasional desert flora. As the day wore on, it got hotter, so she rolled down the windows, letting the wind roar through the Marquis like a contained cyclone. She threw back her head and laughed, mas.h.i.+ng down on the accelerator. The scrubby land was uniformly dry and brown, broken only by occasional desert flora. As the day wore on, it got hotter, so she rolled down the windows, letting the wind roar through the Marquis like a contained cyclone. She threw back her head and laughed, mas.h.i.+ng down on the accelerator.
Live fast, die young. It worked for James Dean. It worked for James Dean.
With her peripheral vision, she caught Rey looking at her with dark and hungry eyes. The strength of her response astonished her. The things he could do to her with just a look should be illegal-and probably were-in the state of Texas. When he realized she knew he was watching her, he turned away. He could have lied back at the diner. He could have made up a background, or a sob story, and she would have never known the difference. Instead, he'd let her know he wasn't ready to open up. She respected that.
As she pulled off the highway, taking the road that led into Pecos, she smiled. He wasn't so different from other men; he just restrained himself better. Oddly enough, that rea.s.sured her. If he could control his behavior in this area, he'd make a reliable partner. She needed someone she could count on to respond the same way, every time they played the game, no deviations. That was what made a con successful-even the smallest tell could cost them everything.
You're a crazy woman, looking for an honest liar.
But maybe, just maybe, she'd found him.
This was the fourth town they'd hit, but it was the first time she'd let him in on the game. By prior arrangement, Reyes arrived first at the bar they'd targeted: Lefty's Tavern. It was a redneck dive, full of wildcatters and refinery workers. He ordered a beer and sat down to wait, as instructed.
Kyra arrived half an hour later, and she drew the eye of every man in the place. He'd never seen those particular jeans on her before, but they were a work of art, strategically ripped down the backs of her thighs, and then laced together with black satin ribbon. The design showed cunning glimpses of skin.
Her movement gave everyone in the room a peek down her black tank top. It would've been plain if not for the deep V and the slim line of sequins that drew attention to her cleavage even when she was standing up. When she leaned down to snag the keys that had ”slipped” from her fingers, his temperature spiked. Along with ten other guys, Rey saw she was wearing a red scalloped bra with black polka dots and a cute little bow in between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.
The other guys had to be thinking about the matching underwear. Even though he knew it was a calculated display, meant to distract, he could no more prevent himself from picturing her in polka-dotted lingerie than he could stop his heart. And he was no Tibetan monk. Unfortunately, he had actual experience to draw upon, making his imagin ings painfully accurate. He even knew the way she sounded when she came.
Physical satiation should have made it easier to focus. Instead, he could only think about having her again. And again. Reyes knew he was making progress with her by biding his time, increasing her levels of trust. He wanted to believe it was sheer perversity that made him want her so, knowing she was dangerous, the closest thing to a black widow he was ever likely to meet.
He couldn't wholly credit that, either.
Reyes made sure not to stare too long, no longer than anyone else, before he went back to his beer. Sometimes she went for the Lolita look in braids and plain cotton. Tonight, she was someone else entirely. Since he'd been doing the same thing for more years than he could count, he admired her ability to slip from one skin to another. Like him, Kyra was pure chameleon; she could be whoever you wanted her to be.
Her walk was smoke and honey; she could stop a train with those hips. Predictably one of the local Romeos headed for Kyra before she made it to the bar. He was tall, brown-haired, mostly fit, but Reyes noted he'd gone soft around the middle.
”Buy you a drink?” the guy offered.
Her mouth curved up. Only her eyes gave her away. Despite her smile, she wasn't sweet; she was a tigress with tawny eyes to match.
”You asking me or telling me?”
”I thought I'd start by asking.” Her would-be one-night stand reached out a hand, like he meant to touch her, but she danced away, firefly light.
Interesting. So it's not just me. She doesn't like being touched. Reyes filed that away under potentially useful tid bits about his target. Reyes filed that away under potentially useful tid bits about his target.
”That works for me.” She flashed a smile, pure carnal sweetness.
”Cal, get the lady whatever she wants.” The guy tossed a crumpled bill onto the counter. Reyes couldn't make out the denomination from where he stood.
”Can I get some Anakin?” Kyra asked.
The 'tender frowned. ”Like . . . Skywalker? I don't do fancy mixed drinks.”
She bit her lip, adorably confused. Her body language practically shouted: I'm cute, but not very bright. Take advantage of me. I'm cute, but not very bright. Take advantage of me. Oh yeah, she was good, all right. Oh yeah, she was good, all right.
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