“Picadelli’s Motel,” Raider read aloud, fixing his jacket more securely around Jonny’s gun. He didn’t like shooting a weapon he’d never used before, but having the cold metal against his hip gave him some sense of security. He opened the door, stepped out into the chilly morning, and stretched his back. “We can’t be here for breakfast.” Though, he was starving.

The other men exited the vehicle.

Jonny glared over the top of the car. “Give me my gun back.”

It must’ve killed the enforcer not to make that demand in the car at least once. That’s what he got for going with the freaky silent treatment the entire ride.

Raider smiled. “No.”

Jonny’s nostrils flared. Red crossed the hard planes of his thin face. “You and I are going to have a problem at some point. Thought I should let you know.”

“That became inevitable the second you pressed a gun to my head,” Raider returned, shutting his door quietly.

Eddie chuckled and stretched his thick body before walking over puddles toward the bar and away from the car and motel. “I think you two are gonna be great friends. Well, unless I ask Josh to kill you, Raider. Then, not so much.”

Josh kept walking toward the bar, not reacting to the words. Did he have a reaction? Raider studied the enforcer. “Hey, Josh? You don’t talk much.”

“Nope.” Josh kept walking, his gait loose, his expression calm.

All right. Raider kept all three men in his sights. Were Wolfe and Force anywhere near? The coming dawn had lightened the sky enough that he could see, but no cars were driving their way. He might be on his own. “This is quite the distance to come for breakfast, but I’m hungry. Should we hit the restaurant instead of the bar?” The lights in the bar were turned off.

“Nope.” Eddie reached the glass door and unlocked it with one key. He stepped inside and walked past a long bar toward the back.

Raider followed, his adrenaline flowing, his body instantly hyperaware and ready to fight. The glow from the cash register glinted off bottles of booze and showed red vinyl bar stools and a gleaming hardwood floor. Scents of tequila and wood chips filled his senses.

Eddie nudged open a door, and light spilled out. He motioned Raider inside a square-shaped room lined with shelves holding more liquor bottles and other supplies. One man in his forties, solid as a brick wall, stood to attention at the far end, and in the middle, another guy sat in a chair with his hands tied behind his back. Blood and bruises covered his face and had turned his white shirt a dark red. His head was down.