Read Online Here Comes the Night by Linda McDonald - Free Book Online Page A

bank’s entrance key on his key ring, but the one to Gordon’s
office door was still there as well. Angie had slipped it out of Gordon’s home
safe for Buck to use. Then he was supposed to mail it back to Angie,
anonymously, just in case somebody got curious about it.
    “Hey, snap to,” Twigs was saying sharply. “Are you ready
with the code or not?”
    Buck nodded.
    “Alrighty then.” Twigs turned the key and the door opened.
The entourage moved quickly inside. Ahead of them a blinking security alarm box
started its countdown.
    She motioned Buck to move to it.
    Buck slowly punched in the security code. The red flashing
light went off. A green one hummed in its place.
    “Good boy,” Twigs whispered. “So far, so good. Now lead the
way.”
    Buck took them up the side stairway to the executive offices
on the third floor. The exertion was hard for him, but he reminded himself that
it would help the drugs wear off. If there came a chance to get away, he
planned to be alert enough to carry it off.
    When they got to his office, he showed Twigs which key to
use. She quickly opened it and they went inside. Then all three of them turned
on their thin flashlights.
    Meatface was delighted. “Man, look at all this shit.” He was
talking about the shrine-like look the entire office had. Autographed pictures
of Buck with everyone from Barry Switzer to Bob Stoops covered the walls. Game
footballs on special stands, his old helmet and number “43" jersey.
    The bank board hadn’t just suggested Buck’s office be
decorated this way, they’d made sure of it. Gordon had been clear that if he
had to put up with jocks, he wanted the whole shebang.
    Twigs snapped her fingers at him. “Hey, perk up. Safe?”
    “Right.” Buck moved as though he was underwater toward the
trophy shelves, one of which he swung away from the wall to reveal his hidden
safe behind it.
    As Buck began work on the combination, Meatface came around
the corner, spotlighting himself with his flashlight. He was wearing Buck’s
football helmet and carrying one of the trophy footballs.
    Jorge and Twigs spit laughter in spite of themselves.
    Meatface kept his voice low, but couldn’t resist acting out
a hike from center for them. “Hut, hut. Hut, two, three, four.”
    “Okay,” Twigs said, “cut the crap. Let’s do this.”
    “Hey.” Meatface got serious. “That side door leads to a
fancy meeting room.” He leered at Buck. “That where you fuck over the
customers, Bucko?” Then back to Twigs. “There’s a door on the other side of it
to something else, but it’s locked.”
    Buck tried not to react, but Twigs picked right up on it.
    “Where’s that other side door go to?” she asked.
    “Nothing,” Buck answered, trying to be casual. “Another
office.”
    “Whose?”
    “The president’s.”
    “Now we’re getting the real skinny,” Twigs said, delighted.
“Where’s his safe?”
    Buck stammered. “It’s just for bank papers. He’s told me he
doesn’t keep any money in it. Just legal stuff and…”
    Twigs shot him a knowing smile. “Methinks the jockstrap does
protest too much.” She looked around for Jorge, who was going through Buck’s
desk. “Hey,” she said, tossing the key ring at him, “go see if one of those
keys unlocks the door to the president’s office.”
    Buck’s worst possible scenario was about to happen. He couldn’t
let them find Gordon. He had to try something.
    As Jorge walked past him, he lunged at him, awkwardly
tackling him to the ground.
    Meatface sprang into action with surprising agility, his
girth more than matching Buck’s strength, especially in his drugged state. Buck
struggled against him until Meatface threw a couple of punches to stop him.
    When Buck recovered, Jorge and Twigs both had guns trained
on him.
    “Listen—” Buck said.
    “Shut up and open your safe.” Twigs’ whisper was vicious.
She whipped her head around to Meatface and Jorge. “No more fucking around. Go
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