Exiled (Anathema Book 2) by Lana Grayson Read Free Book Online Page B

us into a booth far from the yellowed counter and old
truckers leaning over their coffees. Noir followed. Slow. Eying the
regulars—the ones who glanced up, saw the leather, and returned to their
dinners with shallow profanities. A waitress snapped her gum and handed us
faded menus. I pointed to the smeared picture of a chocolate milkshake.
    “And
a burger. Medium. With fries.” I handed her the menu but my rumbling stomach
pestered me. “And an order of mozzarella sticks.”
    Noir
clenched his jaw as the waitressed poised a pen over the pad and awaited his
words. His voice stayed low.
    “Just
a soda.”
    The
waitress rolled her eyes as she returned to the counter. “I’ll get you a pop .”
    I
snickered. “Giving yourself away. You aren’t from around here, stranger.”
    He
nodded. The hard line of his jaw tightened, rough with the shade of scruff. A thin
scar etched into his black eyebrow, fading to white, just like the dust of grey
at his temples. Not enough to age him, but enough to make me rethink my game
plan. He wasn’t a young kid desperate to get lucky. He was wiser than that.
    Sadder than that.
    I
doubted he was homesick, but he sure as hell wasn’t used to being anyone’s
stranger. The waitress set my milkshake before me, and I tucked away another
fragment of Noir’s mystery.
    “Christ,
when was the last time you ate?”
    I
sucked a good quarter of the shake down. It tasted more cold than sweet. That
was fine. I needed the chill in my voice.
    “Can’t
say I’ve had much of an appetite since being traded like car keys to a loan
shark.”
    “Right.”
    I
spun the straw through the ice cream. The silence nearly refroze the drink, but
two years of bartending taught me never to let a conversation fall on the
rocks. I licked a bit of whipped cream off my lip. Seducing him was too much. I
just needed a sign. A crack. Somewhere I could wiggle in.
    Noir
frowned and pulled a tracphone from his pocket. His hand didn’t hide the name
glowing on the screen.
    Rose .
    He
dismissed the call with a frown.
    Interesting.
If I was behind my bar, I might have tossed a towel over my shoulder, offered
him a light to a cigarette, and given him my full attention for that story. Old
lover? Waiting whore? Family?
    Unfortunately,
he wasn’t inclined to share. I bit the straw. His eyes lingered on my lips.
    Bingo.
    “Someone
always calls when you sit down to eat.” I took a leisurely sip. “You can take
it if you want. I won’t be offended.”
    “I’m
fine.”
    “Don’t
look fine.”
    He
snorted. I offered him a sip of the shake. He refused that too.
    “Hey.
We have another hundred miles together,” I said. “Might as well enjoy them,
right?”
    He
didn’t answer. Neither of us were going to enjoy the ride or what happened once
we reached our destination. The food arrived. I passed the basket of fries toward
him.
    “No,
thanks.” He adjusted his phone in his pocket and tapped the rim of his drink.
“Something tells me this ain’t strong enough.”
    “Not
a problem.” I searched through my jacket pockets, my fingers brushing over two
flasks. I pulled both out. “Rum or whiskey?”
    Finally,
the tease of a smile nudged his lips. Not enough to crack the hardness, but the
promise existed. I jiggled both flasks.
    “You
came prepared,” he said.
    “Never
leave the bar without it.”
    He
nodded toward the glass. “Rum.”
    “A
fine choice, sir.” I let the sir linger as I poured. If he reacted, he
hid it well. I imagined it wasn’t the first time a man like him heard it, just
as it wasn’t my first time saying it. Difference was, this man deserved the
respect. “This might make the run a little easier.”
    “You’d
think.”
    I
pushed my burger aside and seized a breath. Flirting was getting us nowhere,
and I was down to the bottom of my milkshake and last mozzarella stick. Within a
few hours we’d hit our destination, right after the sun set and the shadows would
hide everyone’s secrets. Enough was