The Roadside Waitress Who Healed a Warhorse and Exposed a Mob Traitor
“That is enough to earn your freedom.”
I looked at his outstretched hand, then at the monitors showing the armed men.
“I tried running,” I said.
“I spent two years hiding behind a counter, smelling like burnt grease and stale coffee.”
“Every time a car door slammed in the parking lot, my heart stopped.”
“I am not going to run anymore.”
“If I leave now, Vance will eventually find me.”
“He has eyes in every truck stop from here to the border.”
Outside, a loud explosion shook the floorboards.
Dust sifted down from the rafters, coating Vesper’s black coat in gray powder.
The horse snorted, tossing his head.
“They are using a thermal breach on the eastern gate,” I said, pointing at the monitor.
Dante watched me, his face unreadable.
“How do you know that?” he asked.
“I used to train the horses Kroll used for his northern runs,” I said.
“I know how his men move. I know how they think.”
“They always use a three-man breach team on the weakest entry point while Vance waits in the second vehicle.”