Page 18 of Hostile Saint

Gesturing to me as I stared at the plate as if I’d found a pot of gold, Dagger laughed. “Vice, can you imagine how much this kid is gonna eat when not on pain meds?”

Vice, who also had two plates sitting in front of him, teased, “I see I have a title to defend.”

That made me smile. Anything to relate to anyone was comforting at this point in my life. “You like food, too?”

Vice was in his late thirties but had a childlike feel to him. This was surprising since the first—and only other—time I’d ever seen him, he’d been with a drawn gun, ready to use it.

His longer, unkempt dirty blond hair was being held back by aviator glasses on the top of his head. “Like? Hell no. I love food. It’s my second most favorite thing.”

Taking a seat at the end of the table, I stupidly asked, “What’s your first?”

“Pussy.”

Vice’s large hands carried a loaded burger to his chortling mouth. He took a mammoth-sized bite, then playfully growled around the food like an animal in need of a female of his kind.

Attempting to talk, he kept playing, “Yep, dis good, bu’ ain’t ‘ussy.”

Lynx and Dagger busted out laughing, both clinking beers, cheering, “Pussy.”

Putting a burger on my bun, I chuckled to myself. I appreciated their humor, even if I couldn’t relate. Maybe having been too busy surviving, I didn’t have time to daydream about the female gender. Maybe I didn’t because I somehow already knew there was only one for me.

Dagger picked up his hotdog which had so many toppings he looked like an Anaconda unlocking his jaw to get his lips around it. His mouth was so wide it stretched the elastic band attached to his eye patch.

Possibly in disbelief—or disgust—Lynx watched him. “Jesus, Dag. Need a helpin’ hand? Want me to get behind that hotdog and push?”

How these men could make me laugh while my life was an absolute train wreck was a testament to what they were made of. They were survivors. Talk about ‘living in the moment.’ Even though they had acquired a stray with a tragic past and possibly even more tragic future, they still treasured not needing a gun in their hand at the dinner table. And, they made the most of it.

Vice leaned back in his chair to make room as he awkwardly lifted his biker boot into the air. Offering the bottom of the shoe that must have been a size sixteen, he teased, “Dagger, I could help jam that hotdog in there.”

Dagger had a mouthful of hotdog with mustard and dressings dripping down his medium-length greying beard. He flicked off Vice, then shrugged to Lynx. “He’s right. This dog ain’t pussy but still fuckin’ good.” He wasn’t even done swallowing the half-chewed hot dog when he tilted his beer bottle back, filling his mouth to the brim. Since he couldn’t stop smiling, beer leaked to join the mustard.

Lynx was laughing so hard, he could hardly talk, but he managed to throw Dagger a napkin while cursing, “Damnit, pig. Clean yourself!”

At the time, I didn’t realize the rarity I was witnessing; three deadly men letting their guard down. While they ate that night, they let go of the weight all their responsibilities usually forced them to carry. I understood their appreciated moment of freedom because that is how it was when Lacey and I could have a rare moment enjoying a vanilla milkshake. She and I could take a deep breath and relish the simple pleasures life sometimes offered.

With empty plates in front of us, I finally had the courage to ask, “Is she okay?”

It was almost sad to watch the youthful side of the three men fade away and be replaced by the formidable men they usually were. Their shoulders broadened, and worry lines on their foreheads deepened. All three sat forward as if getting ready for an approaching attack.

Lynx’s voice deepened. “The doc who found her, he’s pulling strings with a judge ‘friend’ so that he can keep her at the institute until her family is found.”

Three men stared at me.

When I didn’t say anything, Dagger said, “It’s time, kid. We need to know what we’re up against.”

Lynx added, “Hear me out. We ain’t the prying types, but someone tried to kill you, and your girl isn’t in your arms. Feel me?”

I wasn’t familiar with this expression, but it wasn’t Lynx’s first time using it in front of me, so it was easy to understand his meaning. “What do you want to know first?”

“Why her mama, nor yours, is searching.” Lynx regretted telling me the next part. I could see it in his eyes. “Kid, no reports have been filed in Kansas, or anywhere, for you or Lacey.”

Crow’s words echoed, She won’t search for you...

Pushing my stacked plates away, I rested my chin on top of my folded hands on the table. Folding over slightly helped me feel shielded while learning the only parents Lace and I had didn’t care enough to find us after we’d gone missing. “I guess they are even better liars than I had thought.” Chills created by epic loneliness blew through me. “Maybe they told our moms we ran away together?” A pathetic shrug escaped me. “Maybe that’s why there’re no reports. They’re not worried.”

With much empathy, Lynx sucked on his bottom lip. “Yeah, maybe that’s it, kid.”

Dagger’s one eye squinted, telling me he didn’t believe the lie Lynx was letting me try to fool myself with. “Who are they, kid?”