Page 30 of Hard Rain

“Who’s pumping?” Axel finally asked.

Whip rolled his eyes. “Baby.”

“Am not.”

Axel grabbed his wallet anyway. He didn’t like the rain, so sue him. Getting soaked had been a lot more fun when he was eighteen and stupid.

Age was a rip-off.

Both doors opened at the same time.

Cold rain and wet wind slammed into him immediately. The gas station canopy only blocked about half the storm.

Whip headed toward the pumps while Axel shoved his wallet into his back pocket and started toward the stop-and-go entrance.

“We don’t need snacks,” Whip called after him from beside the SUV.

Axel yanked the door open anyway. “Yeah, I’m not holing up in a motel with you without snacks.”

The weather alone justified chips. He preferred actual food while Whip could survive on gas-station jerky and stubbornness.

Poor bastard.

Whip barked a laugh from somewhere behind him.

“Tell me how you really feel, Bain.”

The door chimed overhead as Axel stepped inside.

Warm air and fryer grease hit him immediately. It was a tiny place, buzzing overhead fluorescent lights, and old coffee sitting on burners behind the counter.

Better than standing outside getting drowned.

Axel grabbed two bags of chips off the rack without really looking at them, then added bottled water and beef jerky from a rotating display near the register.

Country music crackled softly through blown speakers somewhere near the beer coolers.

He glanced out the large window.

Whip still stood beside the SUV with one hand shoved into his jacket pocket while he held the pump in his other hand.

Relaxed posture.

Easy.

Like he wasn’t carrying a Glock beneath his jacket and enough combat training to ruin somebody’s life in under ten seconds.

Most people never saw it.

Their mistake.

The clerk started ringing up the snacks.

“That’ll be eighteen dollars.”

Axel reached for his wallet automatically.

Then his gut clenched.