Page 52 of Lure

Alphabet was in the kitchen, gray sweatpants low on his hips, and his foot tapping as he pulled another shot. He hadn’t bothered with a shirt, but then I didn’t have on pants and we’d just shared a bed so this was—cozy.

Comfortable.

There was that word again. Alphabet glanced over his shoulder. “So, tell me, do you have any other hidden talents like magical cocoa making?”

I raised my eyebrows. “Such as?”

“Cooking.”

I shrugged. “I can, it won’t be fancy. I survived on takeout and the basics. A lot of my diet ran to steamed chicken and salad.”

His grimace was downright comical. “That’s not a diet.”

“It is if you need to maintain low body fat. The camera adds plenty.” It was just another part of the job.

"Well, I hope you like cereal.” He motioned to the pantry. “We have a few different kinds. I know we have fruit.”

“You don’t cook either?” But I had to admit I was curious about the cereal too so I headed for the pantry.

“Well, Lunchbox and I have agreed to disagree on that one.”

I poked my head back out as he started the milk steaming. “How is that an answer?”

“Well, I say I can cook. Lunchbox says I can’t—especially not with his utensils or pans.”

I bit the inside of my lip. “What happened to his pans?”

“Could be that I like to blacken sausage and steak… and burgers sometimes. You know—make it extra crispy.”

“Burned?” I mean, it was a way I supposed.

“You say poh-tay-to.” He shrugged, but there was a grin and his eyes were dancing. “I say blackened. Blackened fish is excellent.”

“Uh huh. This is why you and Lunchbox agree to disagree.”

Alphabet winked. “Exactly. So, cereal it is or fruit or we can figure something out.”

I suddenly had a dozen questions. I had no idea what order to even ask them in or if I should ask them at all. Filing those away, I settled for, “What’s your favorite cereal?”

Chapter

Twenty

BONES

“Put her on for me,” Voodoo said from where he stood in the corner. We had maybe thirty minutes before the rendezvous, and should already be moving. Lunchbox was going over the vehicle Voodoo secured for this leg and he’d called Alphabet to check-in.

I checked my watch. The check-in was a good call. The change in plans couldn’t be helped. As long as they were still secure, we wanted to finish this.

“Hey, Firecracker,” Voodoo’s voice dipped. His gaze collided with mine briefly before he turned to pace away. The landing strip at the small Nevada airport didn’t offer much in the way of shade, but he just slid his sunglasses on as he stepped out of the hangar.

I sighed.

“You heard Alphabet,” Lunchbox said, as he closed the trunk. “She’s been up for the past two nights—late. Real late. That means she’s having nightmares.”

“I’m aware.” Just like I was aware that Voodoo had been spending more and more time in her room.

“We should have briefed her.” Not an unfair conclusion or one I wanted to argue with him over.

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