Page 12 of Tied Over

“The hell are you eating?” Salazar asked, his face scrunched up.

“Ghost peppers.”

“You’re gonna die,” he assured Ian.

“Not today,” Ian replied with a grin.

We all talked about nothing while Dorsey finished getting the basics from Washington and we all scarfed down our food. I offered Salazar and Mabe some of mine, but neither took me up on it.

“You already have lunch?”

“Yeah, it’s almost three,” Salazar told me. “The rest of us eat on schedule.”

“Boring,” I commented.

“Unless you don’t actually go to bed,” Salazar said, shooting Mabe a look that was utterly steeped in judgment. “Some of us just screw around and alternate between booze and coffee.”

“Nothing wrong with coffee,” I said defensively.

“But not as its own food group,” Salazar assured me.

“I—” Mabe began, like perhaps he was going to argue, but then just threw his hands up. “Yeah, fine,” he agreed instead.

I shook my head. “Speaking from experience, man, you gotta sleep and drink water.”

“Coffee is just better water,” he grumbled.

I really couldn’t argue with that.

“Hydration, brother,” Miro apprised him.

“I drink plenty.”

“Vodka doesn’t count,” Ian told him.

“Says you.”

“You’ll be dead by forty,” I declared.

“Oh God, I hope so,” Mabe groaned.

Salazar did a slow turn to him.

“I mean, no. I’ll drink water,” he promised.

I saw the clench of Salazar’s jaw as he faced me. “Don’t be a prick, all right?”

“Yessir,” I agreed with a grin. Clearly, Salazar was not about to let Mabe go quietly into that good night. He’d make sure the man stuck around.

Once we were all done eating, Miro collected the trash, put another bottle of water down in front of Ian, and then left with Dorsey.

“Okay,” Ian said with a sigh, his focus on Washington. “Tell us who your supplier is that you’re supposed to introduce to Burian Petrov.”

“Please,” Salazar added, squinting at Ian, who only rolled his eyes.

Washington looked at me.

“You’ll have a fresh start, Terry,” I reminded him. “And you need one.”