Read Online Choke by Kaye George - Free Book Online Page B

suit?”
    “If they don’t have it, don’t get it. See if they have beauty marks, though. I’d appreciate it so much.”
    He leaned toward her again. “How much?”
    “Let’s wait and see.” She tried a vampy little smirk. If he still thought there was another guy in the room when he returned, she would figure out what to do next. Maybe she could tip him, and they’d be square.
    “Let’s not wait,” said Baxter as he slipped one hand to the small of her back and pulled her in tight. Before Immy could squeal, his mouth was on hers, and sparks were flying. They flew from Baxter’s lips to hers, through her veins, her muscles, reaching every part of her body. The kiss was intense but short. As suddenly as he had grabbed her, he released his hold and sauntered away.
    She watched his cute little Wrangler-ed butt disappear into the door he’d come from, waited for her heartbeat and her breath to return to normal, then stole back into her room, grateful she didn’t have to brave Wymee Falls until she had disguises.
    Mother wasn’t asleep after all. “Imogene, I don’t think I can wear these pants another day,” said Hortense, raising her voice over the television volume. The vermillion polyester was starting to take on a brownish cast.
    “Well, now, do you have any other pants with you?” Immy tried to do the sarcastic one-eyebrow lift, but she suspected they both went up, as they usually did.
    “Can you not creep back into our house surreptitiously and obtain some of my clothing under the cover of darkness?”
    She didn’t know if she could or not, but a good PI should be able to do a B and E on her own home. She could probably get back to Cowtail’s Finest by the time Baxter returned with the goods.
    * * *
    THE B AND E DIDN'T TURN OUT to be all that easy. The plan was to park outside town and walk in. Saltlick was such a small town, the distance from the edge of it to their trailer wasn’t far. Since it was almost eight and getting dark, if she were careful, no one would spot her.
    There was a dirt lot at the edge of town where a big oil tanker, minus the cab, sat most of the time. Smaller tank trucks would cart oil in from local wells and dump it into the large one and, when it was full, a semi cab would hook up to it and take it to the refinery in Houston. She tucked the van behind the big tanker trailer and sussed out her surroundings.
    The pump jack from a nearby oil well clanked and creaked. There were two wells in town, a small one and this huge one next to the lot. Immy strained to hear any other noises, but the pump was too noisy.
    She slid from the car, wincing at the dome light when she pushed the door open. She wished she knew how to turn that bright beacon off, but she had no idea. That probably wasn’t in either of her books. She was greeted by the familiar, slightly rancid smell of oil being brought to the surface of modern-day America after rotting deep in the recesses of history for eons. Dead dinosaurs, her mother had always told her, deceased prehistoric beasts. The smell didn’t remind her of anything alive, that was for sure.
    “Hi, Immy,” called old Mrs. Jefferson.
    Immy froze. Bent nearly double from osteoporosis, Mrs. Jefferson walked by with her ancient, waddling basset hound on a leash. Immy waved, knowing she would never hear an answer. The woman was deaf as a cactus. Immy waited until they shuffled out of sight, wiped the sweat from her forehead, and proceeded.
    It was only four blocks from the lot to her house, but tonight, of course, it was a bustling four blocks. She could have sworn there were more people out tonight than she had ever seen at the Memorial Day Parade. She hadn’t bothered with a disguise for this mission, counting on the dead of night to cover her tracks.
    She had wisely, she thought, worn her flip-flops because they were black, but their thwack, thwack, thwack as she tried to steal through the night undetected cancelled the stealth factor of the