Arthur snorted. “The last fifteen?”
“Man’s got to have some secrets, eh?” Quinn put on his best rakish grin.
Arthur laughed. “Jesus, I didn’t think you’d remind me of Robert this much. When he was your age, I mean.”
Quinn didn’t know how to take the statement, so he ignored it. Instead, he smiled at Arthur in a more real way. “How’s the family?”
Arthur launched into telling him all about his wife and his elderly father who had once been the enforcer to Quinn’s grandpa Callum. When he got to his kids who were around Quinn’s age, Quinn was both relieved and a bit sad—for Arthur and his wife—to hear they had all moved out of town.
“So, what do you make of Jimmy?” Quinn asked Arthur.
“Are you asking my gut feeling or my professional opinion?”
That was a valid question. Arthur’s professional opinion would always be colored by the fact that he was a MacGregor enforcer first and anything else second.
“Gut feeling.”
Arthur sighed and looked out through the window. “I have a backup plan for the missus and I. Our eldest has a garage apartment in Portland if it comes to that, and Dad has said he’ll be happy in his retirement home if we choose to go there.”
Without saying anything direct, Arthur had just validated every worry Quinn had.
“Good. Will you take Aunt Karen?”
Arthur chuckled and finished his second cup of coffee. “I suspect she has an exit plan of her own, and that she’ll use it as soon as Ian is in the ground.”
* * * *
Quinn had almost forgotten the mysterious order to get his ass to the diner, but after Arthur left, his stomach suddenly remembered the agenda.
He pulled on his leather jacket. The day was cold enough to warrant wearing it, and it let him carry his Glock unnoticed, just in case. He didn’t expect to need it, but he felt a lot safer with the familiar weight against the small of his back.
He parked in the side parking lot of the diner and went inside. There weren’t many people there, but those who sat at their tables and booths looked at him and quickly averted their eyes.
“Be right with you!” someone called from the back and Quinn went to sit in a booth where he could see both the street and the door.
He stared out of the window until quick, efficient steps approached and—
“Fuck me sideways, it’s yet another MacGregor!”
Quinn’s gaze whipped to the woman standing next to his table with a pad in his hand and an apron around her waist. Her hair was red as ever and tied back in a familiar way.
“Charlie?”
She gave him a “duh” kind of look and he got up, and hugged her close. She returned the hug, but as they were pulling back, she punched him in the tit, really fucking hard.
“Ow, what the—”
“That’s for leaving.”
“You knew I wasn’t going to stay,” Quinn whined, rubbing his chest.
“Yeah, I did, but I also didn’t know what would come after—”
“Charlie, can I get a refill?” someone called from the other end of the diner.
“What do you want?” Charlie asked Quinn, flipping open her notepad.
“Uh, chocolate milkshake, burger, and fries?” The order came out as a question because it was what he’d always eaten here in their youth.
