“Jet lag.” Lincoln used the same lie he’d given Reed. “I need to eat then crash for a while.”
“We’ll get your belly filled and then you’ll sleep like a lazy pup until morning.”
“Sounds nice, but I never sleep more than a few snatches at a time.”
“I imagine out of necessity, considering your line of work. But you’re in Walker’s Run, not a war zone. It’s okay to relax and enjoy yourself.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Lincoln smiled, although he doubted there would ever come a time when he could drop his guard. “Is anyone joining you for supper?”
Only in spirit. “No, ma’am.”
Miriam picked up one hard-bound menu. “Table or booth?”
Lincoln glanced around the cozy interior of the restaurant. The bar area had stools at the bar itself, booths along the wall and bistro tables of two and four. In the other section, booths were also along the wall with tables of four and six in the center. Larger parties probably used the huge round table in middle of the restaurant. A small stage sat in front of the dance floor and the kitchen had a long glass window in front of the grill so that patrons could watch their steaks being cooked. His mouth watered even though nothing had been placed on the grill.
“A small table in the bar is fine.” He hoped the steaks tasted as good as his new friends had insisted they would. The ones he’d eaten in the Program’s hospital in Germany had tasted like cardboard.
“It will be about twenty minutes before Jimmy starts putting steaks on the grill, so make sure to start with an appetizer, on the house.” Miriam seated Lincoln at a bistro table and handed him a menu. “Would you like something to drink while looking over the menu?”
“Water, for now,” he said, flipping through the three pages of alcoholic beverages listed at the back of the menu. It had been so long since he’d eaten in a restaurant like this, Lincoln had forgotten the variety of items to choose from.
“I’ll send over Tessa when she’s finished with them.”
Tessa, Lincoln assumed, was the blonde server delivering drinks to a table of elderly wolfans.
“Is Angeline here?” he asked Miriam, internally volleying between the desire to see her again and the dread of needing to fulfill a promise to a dead Dogman, which would likely draw her censure.
“She’s in the storeroom taking inventory.” Locked on Lincoln, Miriam’s gaze narrowed ever so slightly beneath the delicate arch of her brow. “I could ask her to come out.”
“No.” He pretended hunger caused the unpleasant tug in his gut. “I’ll talk to her later.”
“Angeline mentioned that you’re staying in Tristan’s apartment.”
“For the next few weeks.”
“Well, we’re glad to have you here.”
Once he told Angeline about Tanner Phillip’s last words and the photograph he’d entrusted to Lincoln, he doubted she would share her aunt’s sentiment.
At her departure, Lincoln closed the menu and pushed it aside. He didn’t much care about what he drank and the plethora of options made him antsy.
Unease coiled inside his chest and his body tingled from the hairs rising on his skin, despite not being on any covert mission about to face untold danger. In fact, since joining the Dogman program, Lincoln had never touched a paw in a more peaceful place than Maico, the quaint little town at the center of the Walker’s Run pack’s territory.
Definitely, nothing like Taifa.
Lincoln dug into his pocket for the Program-issued satphone, a mobile device that connected to private satellites rather than cell towers on the ground, and dialed into a secure message line.
Nothing.
During his recovery at the hospital, Lincoln had been in contact with Colonel Llewellyn, the commander of the human forces in Somalia. Of course the colonel had promised to do all he could to find Dayax.
But sixty-three days had passed and the boy had not been found. In his gut, Lincoln knew Dayax was alive and waiting. Waiting for Lincoln to bring him home.
“I’m Tessa.” The bubbly blonde appeared table side, holding a round tray with a glass of ice water balanced in the center. “You must be new in town. I haven’t seen you before, and everyone eventually makes their way into Taylor’s.” Her broad grin and sparkling green eyes didn’t stir his senses the way Angeline’s unamused frown and blue eyes darkened with irritation had.
“I rolled in Saturday night.”
“Staying or passing through?” Tessa placed the glass of water on the table.
From the dilation of her pupils and the subtle way she inched closer to him, Lincoln got the feeling her questions were more for personal interest rather than the friendly banter the owners would typically ask their servers to provide to customers.
“A little of both. I’m doing some consulting for the Co-op for a couple of weeks.” Unless Brice’s contact in the Woelfesenat managed to get Lincoln’s active duty status reinstated sooner.
“Well.” Tessa laughed lightly. “They have a sneaky habit of keeping those they hire, so I expect to see you in here for a good, long time.”
Lincoln didn’t share Tessa’s expectation.
“Ready to order?”
“A steak, rare.”
“The Co-op steak?” She pulled a pad from her apron and slapped it on the tray hooked in her arm. “It’s an eighteen-ounce porterhouse.”
Suddenly, Lincoln remembered Lila, smirking at him and saying that he could thank her one day with a big, juicy steak.
“Make it two orders.”
“You get two sides per platter.”
Lincoln look at her and shrugged.
“Baked potato, sweet potato, steak fries, potato salad, Caesar salad, mac-and-cheese, green bean amandine, grilled asparagus—” Her words rolled into an incessant buzz.
“Surprise me,” he said, swallowing the uncomfortable feeling scaling his throat.
Tessa jotted on her pad. “We have an extensive selection of domestic and imported beers.”
Lincoln rubbed his hand along his jaw, stubbled with a day’s worth of beard. “I’ll have whatever Reed usually orders and make it two.”
She stopped scribbling and slowly lifted her gaze. Her smile flat.
“You know him, right? He said he’s in here a lot.”
“Yeah, I know him,” Tessa huffed. “It’s a small town.”
Her reaction suggested more, but Lincoln didn’t care to ask.
“He drinks Little Red Cap.”
“Never heard of it.”
“It’s domestic with limited distribution. We order it and a few other ales from Grimm Brothers Brewhouse in Colorado.” She tapped her pen against the pad on the tray. “Is Reed joining you later?”
“Not tonight.”
“You ordered two meals.”
“I did.” But Lincoln only planned to eat and drink one. The other he owed to Lila.
“As much as I appreciate you doing this,” Jimmy Taylor said, accepting the weekly inventory sheets Angeline handed him, “I could get one of the full-timers to handle counting the supplies.”
“I’ve been doing inventory