Page 17 of Retribution
CHAPTER EIGHT
Cobra
“Your menus areat the table, pick a seat, and let me know if you have any questions. Tina will eventually come around to take your order.”
Cobra put his hand on the small of Dakota’s back and guided her across the yellow linoleum floor, past the slew of customers perched on stools around the lunch counter, and back to a corner booth near the window.
The Scotchman was one of Cobra’s favorite diners in a three-hundred mile radius. A cross-section of the area’s population buzzed around at all hours, coming together under the shared enjoyment of greasy breakfasts served twenty-four seven, burgers fried on an age-old griddle and, of course, decadent slices of pie.
Most of the waitresses referred to the diners as “Hon” and were short on charm, but the hash browns made the long wait worth it. Cobra dreamed about them and took every opportunity when he was in town to break out an excuse to make a stop for them.
Dakota slid across the vinyl seat and sat across from him. He faced the front of the diner so he could see who came in. He always sat at a back table or booth in most restaurants; it’d become a habit from years in the MC and then in prison. Cobra had learned to always watch his back and know what the fuck was going on.
“Any recommendations?” Dakota turned over the sticky, plastic-coated menu. “Or will it all kill me?”
“Everything’s good. Pick what you want.”
“Careful on the orders. I tend to take them pretty literally, and yeah, I’m skinny, but your girl can eat. I once won a pie-eating contest by a mile and went back for seconds.”
There was no stopping the small smile that crossed his face. Cobra wondered if Dakota had any idea that she’d referenced herself as being his girl. By the look on her face, he doubted it. She was talking a mile a minute. It was adorable as fucking hell, and it made his life way easier, because he wasn’t the king of conversation on a good day.
Nah, he was better with his fists than with his tongue.
But Dakota? She was more animated than she’d been the day before—full of piss and vinegar, giving him a rundown of her giant breakfast order. Everything from pancakes to a muffin and a western omelet with extra cheese.
“You want hash browns too. Trust me.”
Her eyes lit up, and he chuckled. The pretty one practically glowed as she analyzed and planned while he tried to figure out where the fuck she was going to pack it all away.
“So, you’re a regular here?”
“What tipped you off?” he asked, looking around the diner to catch the eye of any of the waitresses who were either bored or playing on their phones.
He snapped and Tess scurried over to their table.
“Hey, Cobra, how are you?” The curly-haired waitress smiled then glanced over at Dakota then back at him.
“Been good. You?”
Her smile faded a bit. “Oh, it’s just the same old, same old.”
“Yeah.” He handed her the menus.
“You guys ready to order?”
Cobra lifted his chin at Dakota who beamed then began to recite her gargantuan order.
After Tess sauntered away, Cobra was left with a woman across from him who was talking at full speed about her job interview. Never in his life had he been in the company of someone so animated, let alonelistened tosomeone who didn’t take a fucking breath while talking. He blinked and wondered if she was this outgoing with everyone; there was no damn way she reserved this as special treatment for him.
By the time their food arrived, he figured he didn’t have to say jack shit through the entire meal.
“Tell me about you,” Dakota said.
The question left him blindsided mid-chew. Cobra damn near choked, and he took a quick sip of orange juice as he met her eyes over the pile of food set in front of them.
“What about it?” he replied.
“I didn’t sayit, I saidyou.” Dakota shifted her fork in her hand before skewering a large bite of pancakes. “You’re a him, not an it.”
