Wounded Falcon_Brotherhood Protectors World by Jesse Jacobson

Author:Jesse Jacobson [Jacobson, Jesse]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Twisted Page Press LLC
Published: 2019-08-12T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

The Black Walnut Café was a staple in Houston. The restaurant had an impressive brick structure and a clean, spacious interior that relied heavily on mahogany fixtures.

The dining room looked to be about half-filled with customers.

Rainhorse was drawing stares as he entered the restaurant with Love, who understood why. He had to be over six-feet-five, she thought, and with his thick main of long black hair and his statuesque body, it was easy to believe the other patrons hadn’t seen many like him walking by.

Rainhorse surprised the hostess, a thirty-ish year old perky brunette, who was facing away as he approached.

“Two for breakfast,” he said in his slow, deep voice.

The young woman turned and gasped when she saw the enormous Cheyenne standing before her. She recovered quickly, though, made eye contact and smiled, “Sure. Would you like a booth by the window?”

“Perhaps someplace a little quieter,” Rainhorse replied. “We have business to discuss.”

“Certainly,” she said. “Right this way.”

Once Rainhorse and Agent Love were settled in a booth, a pretty waitress named Vivian, arrived with water, menus, and described the specials. There were three: a fruit plate with bran muffin; an omelet; and chocolate chip pancakes.

“I’ll take the fruit plate,” Love said. “If it has honeydew melon, could you hold that please?”

“I guess so,” Vivian replied. She glanced and smiled at Rainhorse, “And you, sir?”

“I will have the pancakes, Vivian,” Rainhorse replied. “Wait . . .”

He looked at Love, “Who is buying breakfast?”

“It’s on me, big buy,” she replied.

He nodded and looked back at Vivian, “I will have the pancakes and the omelet.”

She chuckled, “Yessir. What would you like on your omelet?”

Rainhorse shrugged, “Whatever you have that is good.”

Vivian smiled and nodded, turned and left. Love rolled her eyes.

“Why are guys that way?” Love asked.

“What way is that?”

“Never mind. So, tell me, Mr. Rainhorse, why are you here?”

“As I said earlier, I heard Andrews needed me.”

“So, you rushed in here from . . . where?”

“Someplace not here,” he replied.

Love smirked, “So, you aren’t saying?”

Rainhorse winked, “You catch on quickly. Tell me the trouble you face.”

“Before I get into that, I need to ask you a couple of questions?”

Rainhorse grunted and sucked in a slow, deep breath through his teeth, “I am not so good with answering questions. It requires much . . . talking. Talking is . . . not my thing.”

Love chuckled, “I’ll make it easy. I promise.”

Rainhorse shrugged.

“Andrews is being accused of collusion,” she said. “Specifically, two instances involving yourself: when you two first met and you were badly wounded during the Lindsay Vanderbilt kidnapping, and when you escaped from FBI custody to chase down Barnabas Quince on your own.”

“Collusion? Andrews?” scoffed Rainhorse. “Not a chance. It did not happen.”

“Tell me what happened then?”

“Hmmm,” Rainhorse grunted.

“What’s wrong?”

“That would require a lot of talking. I am hungry, Agent Love.”

“It’s Julie, remember? And I believe you . . . just give me the short version.”

“When I was shot, I was near death,” he said. “I was helped by . . .

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