Wanting Willa
The heat inside the tiny diner was a welcome contrast to the cold rain sheeting onto the nearly empty street. Max Andreakos let warmth surround him as his bodyguard shook the worst of the water off the umbrella and propped it near the door. With the chill fading, Max looked around him with a wry interest.
Tiny’s was not the type of place that usually enjoyed Max’s patronage. Typical of a lot of New York low-end eateries, it was long and narrow and a bit shabby. The food service area was to his left, with a single row of tables along the right. The color scheme, if one could call it that, had been beaten into bland by too many bodies and too many years.
None of that mattered at the moment. It was a refuge while his driver determined the nature of the breakdown and they wait
