“I can make you some—”
“Nope.” I lifted a hand. “I enjoy your food very much, but let’s get something else for a change, eh? Something you don’t have to cook.”
“I should not leave my truck.”
“You have an assistant.”
Min looked from the line of customers to her kitchen helper manning the window and up to her security camera—or maybe the spot where the graffiti had been. Her fingers twitched, as if she would grab the corner of the truck if I tried to pull her away.
“You’re not sleeping here, are you?” I asked.
“No. I cannot park the truck here overnight. It is stored at a secure commissary and truck yard.” She waved vaguely to the south. “They do not allow you to sleep there.”
“You know this because you’ve tried?”
She hesitated. “Maybe. I am concerned right now that I will lose the t
