Racing the Moon Read Online Free PDF Page B

hungry but hopeful. He left Sonny standing in the bathroom, batting stupidly long eyelashes at him.
    MJ stopped in the bedroom and got jeans and a T-shirt on before he got to the kitchen. Burning dangly bits was never good, no matter what the freaks in the tattoo parlors said. He got coffee started and found sausage patties and biscuits in the freezer, eggs in the fridge.
    Score.
    He plopped the sausage and the biscuits in the microwave and grabbed a skillet to stir eggs in. See him. See him be domestic.
    "God, that smells good." Hobbling out, Sonny looked down at his jeans, wrinkling his nose. "You got some sweats or something?"
    "They'll be highwaters, but yeah. Gimme a second." He stirred the eggs a little and then went to find those old, thin sweats. They were long on him and would be tight on the man's ass. "So what's your plan, Sunshine? Where do you go from here?"
    Taking the pants, Sonny shrugged, sitting on one of the little cane stools to put them on. "Wherever, I guess. Someplace where I can set up again."
    "Good for you. World can never have enough of whatever illegal shit you're making." He rescued the eggs, plopped them down on two plates with the not-too-hard biscuits and sausage. He was going away, no question. Somewhere tropical.
    "It wasn't a meth lab, you know. Kinda out of the way of the customers way out there, don'tcha think?" Leaning, Sonny snagged a plate, pulling it over and taking the cup of coffee he offered as well.
    "How the hell would I know? That's outside my realm of expertise." Mmm. Cream. Sugar. Coffee. Good. Oh, he might live.
    "Obviously. Lemme tell you, buddy. C-4 is a hell of a lot more dangerous than white lightning." The man could shovel down the food, no doubt about it.
    "White lightning?" Some heroin thing or... Oh. Oh, wait. That was like, booze. "That's still illegal?"
    "Hell, yes. The kind I make is, anyway. Pure grain, baby, and enough to give you hallucinations." He got a wide, feral grin. "Not to mention the whole not-taxed thing."
    "And people like it?" Okay. So the logic there escaped him. Hallucinations tended to suck -- even those fucking peyote ones.
    "Hey, I don't judge them. I just sell it to them. Or rather, to the guys who sell it to them. I'm in production and... goddamn it! My car."
    "What car?" He hadn't seen any car around that shitty cabin. Making moonshine must not pay very well.
    "Fuck. My car. The one I use for runs that need interference. Woody drives the truck, I drive the car. It's in Asheville. Fuck-a-duck." Sonny smacked the counter for emphasis.
    Okay. Well, he felt enlightened now. Instead of asking again, he ate a bite of sausage, a bite of egg.
    "It's got a hell of a lot less play in the back end than your 'stang, a lot more stable on the road. And she's fast. A '62 Starfire. I did the engine mods myself." Grinning, Sonny shoveled in the last of his egg and then poked his fork at MJ. "You'll have to drive me back up to get it."
    "I will? Dude, I'm going to the beach. I'm on vacation. Getting on a boat and getting the hell out of town." He'd have to drive. Right. Asshole.
    "Sounds good. I like the beach well enough."
    "What?" Had he missed something?
    "I'll just get Woody to put the old girl in storage. That way we don't have to backtrack. How do you feel about Hawaii?"
    While he sat there, mouth hanging open, his food steadily disappeared into Sonny's. Mouth, that was.
    "Hawaii's beautiful. It's the drive to San Francisco to get a ship that's a bitch." What the hell ...
    "A ship." That finally got him a look, Sonny's brows drawing together. "What the fuck? Why not a plane?"
    "I don't do planes." He didn't do enclosed places. Period. No way. No how.
    "Oh-oh. That little thing about. Yeah. But you know, you can look out the window." The very last piece of biscuit went whoosh.
    "I'm aware they have windows." Not that it mattered. Man, he needed to pack the 'stang.
    "So what's the big deal, Precious? Or, you know, you have enough drugs for me to knock you