Unknown number 2/Wysdom Ward: I’m thinking something a little different.
Rand: Last names? Sabarro sounds like they belong in a mall food court.
Flint: Can’t do Cater or Caker - those are just plain weird.
Tatiana: Rat? Nope. Forget that one.
Unknown number 2/Wysdom Ward: Rycat. Rycat Reigns. That’s my final answer.
Chapter 16
“The Fry Tax. Look it up.”
-Cat
Ryker and I spent most of the day combing through the barn on Tova’s property. We came up with a big ole basket of jack squat. And now I have the desire to check myself for ticks.
Maybe Ryker the Biker would help with that?Coochie Mama suggests.
I play a song from the punk band Volatilizing the Esthers in my head until Coochie Mama shuts the fuck up. It takes about ten times, and now the earworm is stuck in my brain.
Great.
Ryker ran out for food while I washed off the stench of murder and farm animals. He returns to the room as I’m putting my medallion back around my neck.
“Burgers and fries?” Ryker holds up a sack with more grease spots than a two-bit garage.
The smell of tasty trans fats wafts through the room, grabbing me in its delicious clutches. “Gimme!”
He smirks, puts two paper towels on the table, and then lays out our greasy feast. “Can’t have Kitten get hungry.”
My eyes narrow to slits, but I’m too famished to say anything about it. I know he uses the nickname to get under my skin. And it’s only a matter of time until I figure out what gets under his skin.
I slide into a plastic chair and snatch a fry from his pile.
“Hey,” Ryker swats my hand.
I snort. “You call me Kitten. I take the fry tax. That’s a law.”
He grabs one of my fries. “No such law.”
I take one of his. “Law of the jungle, baby.”
Ryker squirms in his seat but doesn’t look at my fries again.Victory!
He pulls the pickles off his burger. “So, how did you become a Marshal?”
I take the pickles and toss them into my mouth before he can change his mind. “Had a job tracking people in the Army. It translated when I returned stateside.”
“Army?”
“Military Police. I tracked down bad guys, deserters, escorted prisoners that sort of thing.”
“Seems like a tough path.”
I shrug. “Maybe.”
Ryker meets my eyes. “Ever come under fire?”
