Read Online Lucky Flash: A Lucky O'Toole Novella (The Lucky O'Toole Vegas Adventure Series) by Deborah Coonts - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Deborah Coonts
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game—new players, but the same rules.
The place was as quiet as a mausoleum when we stepped off the elevator. Dane looked like a cowboy who’d wandered off a movie set. He should have a Colt revolver in side holster strapped to his leg instead of a neat little Glock tucked under his arm in a shoulder sling. When the odds were against me, I always opted for a big show of force. I’d traded yesterdays’ Day-Glo orange for hot pink, my power color. I carried a Derringer in my purse—playing to men’s typical under-appreciation for female ingenuity and cunning often worked to my advantage.
“Did you notify next of kin as to our plans?” Dane leaned down and whispered in my ear.
“Don’t throw in the white towel before the battle is even begun.”
As I raised my fist to knock, the door opened. A well-dressed young woman eyed me stonily and then stepped back. Toothpick thin, mocha skin, flat stare, and a sneer. “Come in. He’s expecting you.”
“Said the spider to the fly,” I said out of the corner of my mouth as Dane motioned me to go first.
Busta’ Blue, swathed in layers of silk with some tribal motif, sat at the kitchen table shoveling cereal into his mouth. He paused to give us a look and then growled, “I figured one of you two would show. Thought maybe it’d be the tall one.” He didn’t pause in his feeding, cereal dribbling back into the bowl when he talked. He gave Dane the once-over, then dismissed him, but he didn’t fire back with the insult I saw in his eyes.
“They gotta find you first,” I said. “I had the inside skinny.”
“You always did keep it on the down and dirty.”
Ah, there was the insult. “Worked so far.” I pulled out a chair opposite him. Elbows on the table, I leaned closer. “You need to tell me about Liberace’s ring.”
“Bought that sucker fair and square.” He shrugged, a mountain of flesh undulating. “I was a fan.” He gave me a glance, looking for derision, I thought. Image was everything with these guys, posturing badasses, but musicians… Well, some of them. All of them could appreciate the showmanship of Liberace. That man was Madonna before she even had a glint of how to work it.
“Who’d you score it off of?”
He hemmed and hawed. You woulda thought I’d asked him for his dealer. “Man, that kind of shit will get me nowhere good.”
“If you don’t tell me, I call the cops. Then I’ll send Lucky.” I wasn’t above calling in the wrath of God when I needed her.
His eyes widened. “Okay, but don’t you go sayin’ I said, right? You, bein’ a journalist and all, can hide your sources behind one of the Amendments, right?”
“Right.” In theory, but I didn’t add that part. Busta’ Blue wasn’t worth my kind of protection, but he didn’t need to know that.
“I scored it off Dig Me O’Dell. He said I could keep it here for a while, for safekeeping. I don’t know what’s going on with the dude. First, I notice all his good stuff is gone. Then he lets me rent this place. Before he wouldn’t let hardly anyone in here, and you had to take you shoes off and shit.”
“What good stuff?” I asked.
Too late he realized he’d said way more than was good for his health.
“Does he have a secret room here?” Dane asked.
I flinched. I’d forgotten about him.
“Yeah.”
Dane stared down Busta’.
The big man caved. “I can show you where the door is, but I don’t got the combination.” He lumbered through the main room, folds of silk wafting behind him like sails luffing in the wind.
As I trailed after the two men, I tried not to drool at the view up the Strip. Every major property was visible as the Strip tracked north and then made a jog after Sahara, downtown in the distance. The whole glorious tackiness of it all unfurled at my feet. God, how I loved this place. A
The place was as quiet as a mausoleum when we stepped off the elevator. Dane looked like a cowboy who’d wandered off a movie set. He should have a Colt revolver in side holster strapped to his leg instead of a neat little Glock tucked under his arm in a shoulder sling. When the odds were against me, I always opted for a big show of force. I’d traded yesterdays’ Day-Glo orange for hot pink, my power color. I carried a Derringer in my purse—playing to men’s typical under-appreciation for female ingenuity and cunning often worked to my advantage.
“Did you notify next of kin as to our plans?” Dane leaned down and whispered in my ear.
“Don’t throw in the white towel before the battle is even begun.”
As I raised my fist to knock, the door opened. A well-dressed young woman eyed me stonily and then stepped back. Toothpick thin, mocha skin, flat stare, and a sneer. “Come in. He’s expecting you.”
“Said the spider to the fly,” I said out of the corner of my mouth as Dane motioned me to go first.
Busta’ Blue, swathed in layers of silk with some tribal motif, sat at the kitchen table shoveling cereal into his mouth. He paused to give us a look and then growled, “I figured one of you two would show. Thought maybe it’d be the tall one.” He didn’t pause in his feeding, cereal dribbling back into the bowl when he talked. He gave Dane the once-over, then dismissed him, but he didn’t fire back with the insult I saw in his eyes.
“They gotta find you first,” I said. “I had the inside skinny.”
“You always did keep it on the down and dirty.”
Ah, there was the insult. “Worked so far.” I pulled out a chair opposite him. Elbows on the table, I leaned closer. “You need to tell me about Liberace’s ring.”
“Bought that sucker fair and square.” He shrugged, a mountain of flesh undulating. “I was a fan.” He gave me a glance, looking for derision, I thought. Image was everything with these guys, posturing badasses, but musicians… Well, some of them. All of them could appreciate the showmanship of Liberace. That man was Madonna before she even had a glint of how to work it.
“Who’d you score it off of?”
He hemmed and hawed. You woulda thought I’d asked him for his dealer. “Man, that kind of shit will get me nowhere good.”
“If you don’t tell me, I call the cops. Then I’ll send Lucky.” I wasn’t above calling in the wrath of God when I needed her.
His eyes widened. “Okay, but don’t you go sayin’ I said, right? You, bein’ a journalist and all, can hide your sources behind one of the Amendments, right?”
“Right.” In theory, but I didn’t add that part. Busta’ Blue wasn’t worth my kind of protection, but he didn’t need to know that.
“I scored it off Dig Me O’Dell. He said I could keep it here for a while, for safekeeping. I don’t know what’s going on with the dude. First, I notice all his good stuff is gone. Then he lets me rent this place. Before he wouldn’t let hardly anyone in here, and you had to take you shoes off and shit.”
“What good stuff?” I asked.
Too late he realized he’d said way more than was good for his health.
“Does he have a secret room here?” Dane asked.
I flinched. I’d forgotten about him.
“Yeah.”
Dane stared down Busta’.
The big man caved. “I can show you where the door is, but I don’t got the combination.” He lumbered through the main room, folds of silk wafting behind him like sails luffing in the wind.
As I trailed after the two men, I tried not to drool at the view up the Strip. Every major property was visible as the Strip tracked north and then made a jog after Sahara, downtown in the distance. The whole glorious tackiness of it all unfurled at my feet. God, how I loved this place. A
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