Page 36 of Hard Rain

But with back roads, storm cover, and familiar territory, a pattern emerged.

“Cutter’s doubling back.”

“Looks that way.”

Yeah. Cutter would think he was smarter than everybody else.

“You thinking what I’m thinking?” Axel asked.

“I’m thinking that cabin’s worth another look.”

Outside, wind shoved the rain hard enough against the motel windows to make the glass creak faintly.

Axel looked towards the window.

Priorities.

“I’m hungry.”

Whip snorted softly.

“You’re always hungry.”

He shrugged and couldn’t find fault with the truth.

“Jack’s is still open. He has those chili fries,” Whip suggested.

“Jack’s is at the other end of Paisley.”

“So? Or, we can get gas-station hot dogs,” Whip said.

“Absolutely not.”

He had standards.

“But you’re okay with chips? Don’t think I didn’t know what you were getting at the gas station.”

“That’s different. Potatoes are a food group.”

Whip’s mouth twitched.

“You’re high maintenance for a former Green Beret.”

Axel shoved to his feet. “Yeah, well, unlike you, I prefer my food not to rotate beneath heat lamps for fourteen hours.”

Whip snorted and grabbed his jacket off the chair.

“Princess.”

Axel flipped him off and grabbed his Glock off the nightstand.

“We stopping by Jack’s on the way there or back?” Whip asked.

Axel stopped halfway through zipping his jacket. “You seriously want chili fries?”

“We skipped dinner.”

“We had jerky at the station.”