Chapter 17

“Ready to go?” Deacon asked, coming into the living room.

“Honestly? No. But I know you have to get to work.”

“I’ve got time, yet. If you want to wash off the sweat, I can throw together a late breakfast.” Deacon showed him the lavatory, just off the kitchen.

“Whatever you’re making smells delicious,” Max said a few minutes later, joining Deacon in the kitchen.

Deacon laughed. “You mustbe hungry. It’s just bacon and eggs.”

“Ambrosia, as far as I’m concerned. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Nope. I’ve got it in hand. Sit and relax.”

Max did, at the kitchen table, which was already set. Deacon handed him a cup of coffee, then filled two plates with eggs, bacon, and toast, putting them on the table before sitting, too.

“Do you mind if I ask you something?” Deacon said.

“Probably not. Depends.”

“Is that scar on your arm from Tony?”

“Yes. One of the mementos—” Max grimaced, “—of the attack.”

“Meaning you’ve got more.”