Chapter 2
Alex pulled up at the café a few minutes early. He figured they’d have breakfast and then plan their first day as a team. Manuel parked beside him before Alex could get out of his black SUV. The shorter man drove a beat up Ford pickup, probably at least half as old as he was.
“They make a great breakfast burrito in here,” Manuel said by way of a greeting. “One of them will keep me going all day—they’re packed full of great stuff.”
Alex refrained from making a face. “Do they possibly serve oatmeal?”
The pained expression that crossed Manuel’s face clearly showed their culture gap. To the Indian it appeared oatmeal might be slightly more appetizing than horseshit. He swallowed before he answered. “I have no idea,” he said, somewhat stiffly. “I guess you can ask.”
They went in
