Read Online Cold Bullets and Hot Babes: Dark Crime Stories by Arlette Lees - Free Book Online
Authors: Arlette Lees
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bank accounts. Carly was rich and beautiful. Too bad for her that she wasn’t overly bright. If she was, she’d smell him out as the fleet-footed grifter he’d always been. By the time she was onto his game she’d be cleaned out, and he’d be a thousand miles away, licking his chops and counting his take.
He showered, shaved, and put on the open-necked blue shirt that showed a subtle shadowing of chest hair. A strand or two of bling around his neck, a splash of Ax, and he’d be ready to go to work on his next mark, the gorgeous Greta. But, he’d better be careful. Greta was sharper than Carly. He couldn’t afford any missteps. Her ailing banker father was almost ready to kick the bucket. Then he’d be rolling in dough. Her dough, if he played his cards right.
A man could marry an endless succession of women, if he kept moving, used a phone book full of aliases, and never bothered with the inconvenience of divorce. As long as one wife never found out about the others (and that hadn’t happened yet) he could run the same scam from here to kingdom come.
Cash smoothed back his head of black hair, allowing one renegade curl to fall casually over his forehead, like that cool actor on the old Hawaii Five-O . ‘You handsome dog’ he thought, as he checked his image in the mirror, one last time. He smiled his crooked smile. He had a hard job, but, somebody had to do it.
He still had five thousand dollars in his wallet, money from the aging widow who was waiting for him in Tulsa. He snickered. It was going to be a long wait. He’d used what he’d had to bag Greta. He hoped it wouldn’t take much more.
Carly was already in bed glued to American Idol. She looked up absently as he tried to slip unnoticed out of the door of their luxury condo. Yes, he could say ‘ours’, now that they tied the knot. He liked the way the word rolled around in his head like a billiard ball. ‘Ours.’
“You’re forgetting your wallet, darling,” she cooed, from the acre of satin comforters. “I found it on the kitchen counter.” He smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand. You get rushed, you start doing stupid things. As he reached for his wallet, that nasty little poodle of hers tried to bite his fingers off.
“Now, now Tiffany!” she scolded.
God, how he hated that pampered little rodent. He was already planning its mysterious disappearance.
He slipped the wallet into the same pocket with the red velvet ring box that held the big blue diamond that Carly had never seen. She pulled him down to the bed for a kiss. He had to admit she was a delicious babe. Golden hair. Skin like white chocolate. But, he wasn’t in the game for love, or sex, or any of the usual clichés. He kept things simple. He was strictly a money man.
She planted a soft kiss on his lips. Gullible piece of fluff. Tiffany snapped and he jerked away.
“Sweetheart?”
Good lord, what now? He was never going to get out of here. His antiperspirant was already letting him down.
“Angel, I’ve got to meet a client. If I can close this deal, we can spend a whole month in Florida, soaking up the sun and living on nachos and Margaritas.”
He could tell from the look on her face that she had something on her mind, if that was possible.
“Please, don’t be mad,” she pouted. “I went shopping this afternoon and the Porsche is out of gas. I pulled into the carport on fumes.” He could swear the dog was gloating.
Cash felt like blowing his stack, shaking her by the hair, slapping her up. He’d certainly had enough practice. But, he wasn’t going to blow his gig. Not tonight. He had to be patient, just a while longer, but all this patience was about to give him an aneurism.
Carly reached for her purse and dangled the keys to the station wagon. Next to the Porsche it was a junkyard on wheels. What did she think he was? A house husband with three kids and a cocker spaniel? This was the car she let the housekeeper drive when hers was broken down.
He showered, shaved, and put on the open-necked blue shirt that showed a subtle shadowing of chest hair. A strand or two of bling around his neck, a splash of Ax, and he’d be ready to go to work on his next mark, the gorgeous Greta. But, he’d better be careful. Greta was sharper than Carly. He couldn’t afford any missteps. Her ailing banker father was almost ready to kick the bucket. Then he’d be rolling in dough. Her dough, if he played his cards right.
A man could marry an endless succession of women, if he kept moving, used a phone book full of aliases, and never bothered with the inconvenience of divorce. As long as one wife never found out about the others (and that hadn’t happened yet) he could run the same scam from here to kingdom come.
Cash smoothed back his head of black hair, allowing one renegade curl to fall casually over his forehead, like that cool actor on the old Hawaii Five-O . ‘You handsome dog’ he thought, as he checked his image in the mirror, one last time. He smiled his crooked smile. He had a hard job, but, somebody had to do it.
He still had five thousand dollars in his wallet, money from the aging widow who was waiting for him in Tulsa. He snickered. It was going to be a long wait. He’d used what he’d had to bag Greta. He hoped it wouldn’t take much more.
Carly was already in bed glued to American Idol. She looked up absently as he tried to slip unnoticed out of the door of their luxury condo. Yes, he could say ‘ours’, now that they tied the knot. He liked the way the word rolled around in his head like a billiard ball. ‘Ours.’
“You’re forgetting your wallet, darling,” she cooed, from the acre of satin comforters. “I found it on the kitchen counter.” He smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand. You get rushed, you start doing stupid things. As he reached for his wallet, that nasty little poodle of hers tried to bite his fingers off.
“Now, now Tiffany!” she scolded.
God, how he hated that pampered little rodent. He was already planning its mysterious disappearance.
He slipped the wallet into the same pocket with the red velvet ring box that held the big blue diamond that Carly had never seen. She pulled him down to the bed for a kiss. He had to admit she was a delicious babe. Golden hair. Skin like white chocolate. But, he wasn’t in the game for love, or sex, or any of the usual clichés. He kept things simple. He was strictly a money man.
She planted a soft kiss on his lips. Gullible piece of fluff. Tiffany snapped and he jerked away.
“Sweetheart?”
Good lord, what now? He was never going to get out of here. His antiperspirant was already letting him down.
“Angel, I’ve got to meet a client. If I can close this deal, we can spend a whole month in Florida, soaking up the sun and living on nachos and Margaritas.”
He could tell from the look on her face that she had something on her mind, if that was possible.
“Please, don’t be mad,” she pouted. “I went shopping this afternoon and the Porsche is out of gas. I pulled into the carport on fumes.” He could swear the dog was gloating.
Cash felt like blowing his stack, shaking her by the hair, slapping her up. He’d certainly had enough practice. But, he wasn’t going to blow his gig. Not tonight. He had to be patient, just a while longer, but all this patience was about to give him an aneurism.
Carly reached for her purse and dangled the keys to the station wagon. Next to the Porsche it was a junkyard on wheels. What did she think he was? A house husband with three kids and a cocker spaniel? This was the car she let the housekeeper drive when hers was broken down.
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