Read Online Lucky Bang by Deborah Coonts - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Deborah Coonts
Ads: Link
than that I'll—"
"What?" His grin held a challenge.
I just smiled as I floored the accelerator, pressing us both back in our seats as we flew through the mousetrap, staying to the left and onto the 515 which would take us to the east side of town.
The Boulder Highway used to be the heavily trafficked main drag between Sin City and Boulder City, home to the Hoover Dam. Now the 515 Bypass to the east and the 215 to the south siphoned the traffic and the prosperity with it, relegating the Boulder Highway to has-been status. Home to smaller, local casinos, gun stores, dives, hotels that apparently took pride in their low hourly rates, and pawnshops, the whole area clung to the tattered memory of bygone riches—its hopes fading along with the aging-colored awnings bleached by the assault of the sun. That's not to say hope was completely gone—there were pockets of economic revitalization along this long stretch of asphalt. However, hunkered between a flophouse and bar called Balls to the Wall, which advertised in blinking neon an all-nude review, Payless Pawns wasn't in one of the sections on the upswing.
I eased the Ferrari into a tight space next to a couple of motorcycles—the skull and crossbones insignias did little to inspire confidence. Today would have been a good day to stuff my Glock in my Birkin. I smiled at the incongruity—the Hermes hit woman. It had a ring to it. A career possibility if this casino exec thing went down the slop chute—and just one more way to shoot myself in the foot. Biting down on my weakness for punniness, I tried to channel 'tough' as I filed the idea away.
I may have missed the boat on the gun, but I'd brought the next best thing—Dane.
He unfolded himself from the car, then looked down at me as he eased the door shut with an appropriate reverence. "You always introduce me to the nicest places. First Smokin' Joe's and his XXX videos, then your mother and her girls, now the Balls to the Wall which, come to think of it…"
I burst out laughing.
He tried to ignore me. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to soften me up." His grin flared as he realized the setup he'd just handed me on a platter. He held up both hands. "Don't go there."
Then he dropped his head when I said, "If that was my goal, I'd say my choices were a bit misguided, wouldn't you?" Following his lead, I too unfolded myself, then shut the door behind me. Putting the top up would be asking for someone to slit it, so I didn't bother. "After all, you guys have the hard part."
Looking up, he shot me a grin. "Do you ever do as you're asked?"
"I have authority issues, deal with it."
"I'm trying." He squinted an eye shut as he glanced around. "I can't decide whether to come inside to protect you, or stay out here and protect the car."
"The car, for sure." Somehow I kept the grin off my face and out of my voice. "You'll get more pleasure out of it in the long run."
"Probably true." His lust thinly disguised, his eyes raked the car then returned to mine. "Seriously, how do you want to play this?"
"Give me five minutes. I'll go in alone. Frenchie Nixon's sister owns this place. Last I heard, Frenchie still runs home when he finds his ass in a crack, and this is all the family he's got."
"I won't even ask what you want with someone named Frenchie. I hope I get points for that." His eyes flicked over my shoulder—a habit of my ever-watchful, former Army MP. "And after five minutes?"
"You'll get to do your whole Texas chivalry, saving-damsels-in-distress thing."
"I'm a little rusty." He didn't like the idea—I could see that—but he always was good about letting me hang myself.
"A knight in rusty armor— now you tell me." I pressed my nose to the storefront window but couldn't see anything through cracks in the mirrored film.
Four latches, each with a heavy-duty padlock hanging from it, had been opened and folded back from the door. Four? The necessity that required all the locks, plus the bars on
"What?" His grin held a challenge.
I just smiled as I floored the accelerator, pressing us both back in our seats as we flew through the mousetrap, staying to the left and onto the 515 which would take us to the east side of town.
The Boulder Highway used to be the heavily trafficked main drag between Sin City and Boulder City, home to the Hoover Dam. Now the 515 Bypass to the east and the 215 to the south siphoned the traffic and the prosperity with it, relegating the Boulder Highway to has-been status. Home to smaller, local casinos, gun stores, dives, hotels that apparently took pride in their low hourly rates, and pawnshops, the whole area clung to the tattered memory of bygone riches—its hopes fading along with the aging-colored awnings bleached by the assault of the sun. That's not to say hope was completely gone—there were pockets of economic revitalization along this long stretch of asphalt. However, hunkered between a flophouse and bar called Balls to the Wall, which advertised in blinking neon an all-nude review, Payless Pawns wasn't in one of the sections on the upswing.
I eased the Ferrari into a tight space next to a couple of motorcycles—the skull and crossbones insignias did little to inspire confidence. Today would have been a good day to stuff my Glock in my Birkin. I smiled at the incongruity—the Hermes hit woman. It had a ring to it. A career possibility if this casino exec thing went down the slop chute—and just one more way to shoot myself in the foot. Biting down on my weakness for punniness, I tried to channel 'tough' as I filed the idea away.
I may have missed the boat on the gun, but I'd brought the next best thing—Dane.
He unfolded himself from the car, then looked down at me as he eased the door shut with an appropriate reverence. "You always introduce me to the nicest places. First Smokin' Joe's and his XXX videos, then your mother and her girls, now the Balls to the Wall which, come to think of it…"
I burst out laughing.
He tried to ignore me. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to soften me up." His grin flared as he realized the setup he'd just handed me on a platter. He held up both hands. "Don't go there."
Then he dropped his head when I said, "If that was my goal, I'd say my choices were a bit misguided, wouldn't you?" Following his lead, I too unfolded myself, then shut the door behind me. Putting the top up would be asking for someone to slit it, so I didn't bother. "After all, you guys have the hard part."
Looking up, he shot me a grin. "Do you ever do as you're asked?"
"I have authority issues, deal with it."
"I'm trying." He squinted an eye shut as he glanced around. "I can't decide whether to come inside to protect you, or stay out here and protect the car."
"The car, for sure." Somehow I kept the grin off my face and out of my voice. "You'll get more pleasure out of it in the long run."
"Probably true." His lust thinly disguised, his eyes raked the car then returned to mine. "Seriously, how do you want to play this?"
"Give me five minutes. I'll go in alone. Frenchie Nixon's sister owns this place. Last I heard, Frenchie still runs home when he finds his ass in a crack, and this is all the family he's got."
"I won't even ask what you want with someone named Frenchie. I hope I get points for that." His eyes flicked over my shoulder—a habit of my ever-watchful, former Army MP. "And after five minutes?"
"You'll get to do your whole Texas chivalry, saving-damsels-in-distress thing."
"I'm a little rusty." He didn't like the idea—I could see that—but he always was good about letting me hang myself.
"A knight in rusty armor— now you tell me." I pressed my nose to the storefront window but couldn't see anything through cracks in the mirrored film.
Four latches, each with a heavy-duty padlock hanging from it, had been opened and folded back from the door. Four? The necessity that required all the locks, plus the bars on
Similar Books
