“Thanks for coming, Finn. Take care.”
With that, I headed out. As I made my way across the parking lot, a familiar figure stood leaning against my pickup. “Okay, what now?”
“How did the phone call go last night?”
“Fine.” No way was I going to share what happened. I knew better. Or at least I thought I did. “Why are you waiting for me?”
“How long have you volunteered here?”
“Since I started working in the department. So about five years. Why?”
“Just—” He looked around. Clearly to verify we were alone. Since the animal shelter was on five acres of land, there wasn’t another building in sight, and the parking lot was empty save three vehicles for three people, I figured he was being a little paranoid. He pursed hislips. “I heard a rumor, and I wanted to ask you if you know anything about it.”
“You know the price of questions.”
He cocked his head.
“Take me to dinner. I know this great Mexican place. Hell, I’ll even pay. Follow me.” Without waiting for him to respond—or even to ask if he liked Mexican—I got into my truck. I waited until he was in his SUV before I headed out of the parking lot.
Is this really a good idea? You didn’t answer his questions yesterday and now he’s got more today…can you keep everything straight?
I probably could. More importantly, though—did I want to?
For that question, I didn’t have an answer.
Chapter Eleven
Ulysses
Iwasn’t a huge Mexican food fan. Well, more like I didn’t frequent the restaurants. As I was following Finn, though, my stomach rumbled. Okay, so food would be a good idea.But not sex. Answers first—bedtime activities later.He still hadn’t explained why he’d booted me. Retribution for me having left? A way to protect himself? Or truly a phone call he didn’t trust me not to listen in on.
Spring’s overheard rumor about the shelter had felt far-fetched. And with boy scout Finn as a volunteer there, the whispered suggestions felt even more ridiculous.But sometimes truth comes from the ludicrous. Maybe Finn isn’t the boy scout you think he is. Or maybe he’s not involved and had no idea about the nefarious activities.
Huh.
That notion was plausible.
He signaled a right turn into a strip mall, and I followed. Soon he pulled up before a fast-food joint with, yes, a Mexican-themed windowdisplay. We exited our vehicles at the same time and headed into the place.
“This is on me.” Finn grinned. “But I know Fifties was more expensive.”
I waved him off. I wasn’t keeping score. Whatever it took to get information.
I opted for a bowl of beef with rice, black beans, lettuce, chopped tomatoes, diced onions and corn with a dollop of sour cream on the top. I had no idea how Mexican the meal was, but it smelled amazing.
Finn chose basically the same things but in a wrap. He grinned as he entered a tip into the machine and tapped his card.
The server wished us well, which I could barely hear over the music playing. I didn’t recognize the tune, but that wasn’t surprising. My tastes ran to classic rock and classical concertos. Quite a contrast. Newer music didn’t tend to sway me. I wanted comfort—which I got from things from my past.
Nostalgic doesn’t suit you. You’re supposed to be up on the current trends. On the new. On the latest buzz.
That didn’t pull me in, though. So I’d leave those things to Spring and our freelancer, Tyler. He had an unpaid internship and was eyeing journalism as a career.
“Here okay?” Finn pointed to a corner table—as far away from the employee as possible.
“Sure.”
We placed our trays—holding our food and fountain drinks—on the table, and then we both removed our jackets.
