Page 83 of Lethal Vengeance

The thought of food makes me wrinkle my nose.

Raider holds a tortilla up to my mouth. “Just take a bite.”

The warm tortilla is lightly filled with refried beans. “It’s good.” And mild enough to not upset my stomach right now.

He hands me half. “You eat half, and I’ll finish the rest.”

“They’re pretty good. Where did you get them?”

“These are store bought. Homemade are the best. My mother used to make fresh refried beans and tortillas from scratch for me when I was young. It’s what I eat whenever I need some comfort food,” he admits, but I see the way his eyes smile when he takes a bite. This simple food means a lot to him.

I look over at Cruz, who’s eating his own. “What’s your favorite comfort food?”

“As a southerner, I should say something like shrimp and grits or cornbread, but it’s spaghetti. Not the fancy kind, either. Prego from a jar. Add ground beef and it’s my childhood on a plate. But I haven’t had it in years,” he says with a bittersweet smile.

“Did your mom pass away?” I ask, familiar with the look on his face.

He nods. “Heart attack. Five years ago. She went quickly.”

I slide my hand into his and squeeze. “I’m sorry. It doesn’t matter if you’re ten or thirty, losing a parent sucks.” I grab Raider’s hand too. “What was she like?”

He chuckles. “Sweet, with a backbone of steel. As a nurse, she worked a lot, but on her days off, she’d always plan something fun for us to do. Hike a new trail, see a movie, take a day trip… you name it. Her favorite thing to do was to turn up the radio and dance.” His thumb rubs the top of my hand. “But she was strict when it came to following her rules. If you didn’t, her punishments could be just as inventive as her rewards.”

The look on his face makes me laugh. “Tell us.” Swiveling, I lean into Raider to watch Cruz while he recounts the story.

Raider’s arms wrap around me.

“It was my job to mow the lawn every two weeks. The summer I turned fifteen, I learned how to skateboard and quickly became obsessed. I’d spend hours practicing at the local skate park. Needless to say, two weeks stretched into almost four. The lawn looked like shit. Every day, my mom would remind me to cut the lawn when she left for work, and I’d promise her it would be done, but I never got around to it,” he says in an incredulous tone.

He flashes a wry smile. “I came home one day from the park to find her mowing the lawn. When I tried to take the lawn mower from her to finish the job, she wouldn’t let me. For two hours, I sweated and paced, knowing my punishment was going to be worse because she had to do my job. Finally, the mower cut off, but instead of wheeling it to the garage, she parked it in the driveway and put a gas can beside it.”

“I went outside to put it away, but she stopped me. ‘Mrs. Barclay asked if you wouldn’t mind mowing her lawn. She offered to pay you, but I told her it wasn’t necessary. Her bridge club is coming over tomorrow, so she needs it done now.’ Figuring this was my punishment, I went over and mowed Mrs. Barclay’s lawn.”

He's shaking his head. “When I came home, my mother gave me a list with five more neighbors on it. I ended up mowing six lawns to earn my allowance. Needless to say, our lawn was mowed every two weeks the rest of the summer.”

Both Raider and I laugh.

“Sneaky. I love it. Kind of fits, you know?” I wink at him.

He looks surprised. “Didn’t think about it, but you’re right. She was sort of sneaky and very creative.”

Raider pulls me closer and leans back. “She sounds wonderful.” His voice is wistful. “It’s hard to remember my mother sometimes. I was so young when she died. Tell us another.”

Cruz pulls my feet into his lap. “Rest a little longer. We’ll keep watch.”

Softly rubbing my legs, he recounts another story, and I slowly fade away.

37

QUINN

When I wake, Raider’s standing by the door with his gun.

“What’s going on?”

“We heard something. Cruz went out to check,” he murmurs.

I quickly stand. “What kind of noise?”