Dirty Sex (19 page)

my brother.”

“Yep.” That I agreed with.

“We both love my brother.”

“More than anyone in the world.” It was true. “Except my parents,

maybe.”

“Same here.”

“So?” We already knew all of this. I didn’t know why she was

reviewing. “You want to act like nothing happened to spare him or

something?” What a stupid idea. Ryan would understand. He would be

pissed, but he would understand.

“Is that what you want?”

“What do you think?” It would have been a good idea to say what

I actually felt. Those words just weren’t popping into my head at the

moment.

“I think that you don’t give a fuck. And if I’m right then we should

just pretend it never happened. I’m not willing to sacrifice my brother

for you.” Damned if she wasn’t ice through that little speech. The girl

didn’t break a sweat, shed a tear, or look anywhere except at me.

“Then fucking don’t, buttercup.” I stood.

“So that’s settled then?” I shrugged, clueless about what just

happened. “We just ignore it? It never happened? It won’t happen

again?”

It felt like getting punched. Repeatedly. In the face. “You make

the rules. I just live by them.” With that, I left her sitting on the couch.

I needed a shower. If I had to walk around all day smelling like Reese’s

sex, I would kill myself.

“We probably shouldn’t leave the room either,” Reese called

before I shut the door.

“Why not?” I was never going to get out alive.

“Uncle Vito.” She didn’t need to explain.

“Uncle Vito.” I slammed the door laughing in a scared, heartless

way.

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Dirty Sex

By the early evening, I was bored and tired of the silence that

felt like fighting so I decided to make a stab at conversation.

It couldn’t be any worse than what we were already doing.

“So why is Ryan staying in the city another night?” I was at the

bar pouring a scotch for myself so my back was to her. Reese was on

the couch reading. The girl was still wearing only my western shirt,

which I found infuriating and totally sexy. It was those muscled thighs,

perfect for wrapping her legs around my hips.

She put her finger in her book and closed it. “He’s looking for a

place to sell some of the bars.” What the hell was she talking about?

Oh yeah. Ryan. “When we go back for the passports, he wants to sell a

couple of them.”

“That’s a good idea, actually.” I turned and propped my back

against the bar feigning indifference. “We should’ve thought of it

before.”

Reese nodded. “If we don’t get rid of some of them, we’ll be in

trouble. They’re too hard to move.”

“We should probably do the same, you know? Try and find a place

to sell them.” Gambling, drinking, and screwing were fun so it made

it easy to forget what we were supposed to be doing. That was the

plan. Sell some gold in the States; take the rest to Mexico. And then…

something.

“Ideas?”

“Do you think the phone book has a section titled Selling Gold

Bars?” That sure would make it easier. Reese smiled at my joke, a

definite improvement.

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AShley BArtlett

“Why don’t you check on that?”

“We could look online. The hotel has wireless, right?” I set my

drink down and went to grab my laptop. When I got back, Reese was

staring at a very blank spot on the wall. “Reese?”

“You know what I was thinking?”

“Not yet.”

“We could ask around downstairs. They probably know

everything.”

“You want to go ask the concierge where to sell your gold bar?” I

asked sarcastically.

“Yep.” She looked serious.

“Knock yourself out, buttercup.” It sounded like a bad idea to me.

“I wasn’t asking for permission.” Reese sounded all irritated. She

got up and went into the bathroom. A couple minutes later, the shower

turned on.

At least I could be alone. By the time Reese got out of the shower

I’d made a list of places that bought scrap gold and jewelry.

“You solve all of our problems, yet?” she asked.

“All my problems,” I said without looking away from the

computer. “Can’t help with yours. That’ll cost you.” I looked up and

flashed a charming grin, which instantly died. Reese was naked. Damn,

she was gorgeous, smooth skin with those full breasts, slightly more

than a handful. Fucking amazing.

“I knew you were a whore.” Could she tell I was thinking about

sex? “Thanks, but I don’t need your services.”

“That’s not what you said last night.” It wasn’t nearly as fun to

say that when I meant it. What I got for my trouble was the view of her

naked ass. Not a bad trade. She came back out a few minutes later when

I was pouring another drink. I had the phone propped against my ear

and was about to dial the first number from my list.

Reese reached over and hung up the phone. “Don’t use the hotel

phone.”

“Why?” I attempted to convey as much of my displeasure as

possible.

“Because it will be easy to trace.” That sounded logical.

“Right, whatever.” No way was I going to tell her it made sense.

“I’ll be back.” She waltzed out of the room. I wished I could hate

her.

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Dirty Sex

With Reese gone, I picked up my cell and started to dial. Damn. It

was almost out of minutes. I couldn’t exactly use a credit card to load

more time onto it. Quickly, I wrote a note to let Reese know where I

was and headed out the door. There had to be some place in Vegas that

sold pre-paid cell phones. I’d just take Reese’s car. That also had the

advantage of irritating her.

Besides, Reese was being all weirdly paranoid about this Vito guy.

So what, her uncle might call Christopher. We would be gone before he

could catch up. It was better if I just went out and let her yell about the

vague, theoretical risk later.

As I navigated the maze of the hotel’s bottom floor, I caught a

glimpse of Reese ahead of me. She looked like she was heading the

same way I was. I’d almost caught up to her by the time she was at the

valet pickup in front.

“Ms. DiGiovanni, so good to have you back,” the valet greeted

her warmly.

“Hey, Ricky. It’s been a while.” How did Reese know the valet?

“Yes, ma’am. We’ve missed you.”

I wasn’t proud, but I turned and pressed my back against one of

the big pillars in the lobby. Nonchalantly, I leaned against it and took

out my dead cell phone like I had some purpose.

“I need some help. Discreet help,” Reese clarified.

“Of course,” he said in a lower tone. After that, I couldn’t hear any

voices. They either walked away or were talking very quietly.

I turned away and went back the way I’d come.

❖

The floor was going to have track marks from me pacing in

front of the windows. Maybe when Reese came the year before she

had stayed at the same hotel. Maybe the valet was just really good at

remembering the names of beautiful women. Women who had stayed

in the hotel once over a year ago. Maybe. It was probably a totally

innocent conversation and I was making it into a sordid affair.

I couldn’t ask her though. Not without telling her I’d been

eavesdropping, and that would get me in a shitload of trouble. Ryan

wouldn’t be back until the next morning so I would just have to wait

for him. I needed a drink.

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AShley BArtlett

Ten minutes of pacing and one forgotten drink later, Reese walked

in. I opted to stare at nothing on my computer rather than confront her.

What a loser.

“Get any hits with your calls?” Reese asked politely.

“Nope. No minutes on the phone.” That about summed it up.

Ten minutes later, the room phone rang. I jumped and almost fell

over. Smooth.

“Hello?” Reese quirked an eyebrow at me then turned away. “No

way. No, that’s perfect. Thanks. Where is that?” She started laughing

at whatever it was the person on the phone said. I was immediately

envious of them. “Yeah, I got you. All right, bye.”

“Girlfriend?”

The look Reese gave me made my insides quiver. Not in a good

way either. “There’s a place near Highway Fifteen,” she said. “The guy

who runs it buys gold by weight and is good at keeping quiet.”

“No shit.”

“Let’s go.”

“What? No.” That was a good thing that she found the place.

Really, it was. It just seemed off, a little too easy. “Right now?”

“Why not?”

I didn’t have a good reason. “Okay, fine. I need to put on shoes.”

Reluctantly, I shuffled into my room to pull on my shoes.

“Hurry up,” Reese yelled.

She’d changed into a T-shirt and thrown on a navy blue, cropped

blazer. The sleeves almost reached her wrists and it was a little tight.

Totally hot. All I had on was a hoodie and shorts. Whatever. I looked

like a heathen and she didn’t. Nothing new there.

“Should I bring something to put the cash in? Will the guy give us

cash? Are you sure this is a good idea?” Nervous? Me? No, not at all.

“Here.” Reese tossed a heavy backpack to me. She’d already put

the bar in it.

“You’re prepared.”

“I just think ahead,” she said in a way that implied that I didn’t.

We went back down to the valet pickup in silence. It wasn’t

until we were in Reese’s car that she said, “Oww, fuck, I can’t drive

with this,” and reached behind her to pull out a small, stainless steel

handgun. “Hold it, okay?”

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Dirty Sex

“Fuck no.” There was no way I was going to take it. “Why the hell

did you bring that?”

“Because I like it better than that massive Glock my brother

swears by.” Reese leaned over and settled the small, elegant Walther

into my lap. The way she did it would have turned me on if it hadn’t

been a gun. Okay, it kind of did anyway.

“But why did you bring a damn gun in the first place?”

Reese gave me that you dumbass look.

“Don’t you have a holster or something?”

“I’m wearing it.” Reese pulled open her blazer to reveal a dark

brown shoulder holster and another Walther. “Can’t fit two in there.”

“Why do you need two?” I yelled.

“You might need one.” For such a smart girl she could be so stupid.

“What for?” She didn’t have an answer for that.

Reese drove like she knew where she was going. Soon we were

away from the chaos and decadence of the Strip driving through streets

that looked increasingly shady. Without the pervasive flashing lights,

the darkness seemed even more oppressive.

“Where the hell are we going?” I asked after we passed the fourth

very obvious dealer.

“See that cement building? The one with no sign.” She had to be

kidding.

“Yeah?” We drove past it. I didn’t get a good look inside.

“That’s it.” Reese found a spot on the side of the road and parallel

parked. We were a block and a half away.

“You’re out of your mind.” She expected me to walk? “Drive

closer.”

“There aren’t any spaces. Do you see any?” No. “You scared?”

“No. It’s just a long way.”

“Want one of my guns?” Reese started laughing at her own joke.

“I’ll be fine, thanks.” I yanked up the hood of my sweatshirt and

got out of the car.

The sidewalk was empty. Recesses in the buildings to my left

looked like the perfect place for someone to hide. I’d never see them

coming. My instinct was to grip the backpack with both hands, but I

knew that would be too obvious.

The building Reese had pointed out looked like it could survive

Armageddon. Bars covered the scratched window, and I had to ring a

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AShley BArtlett

buzzer to get in. A camera mounted above the door adjusted to get a

good view of my face. Apparently, I was cool enough because the lock

clicked open. I took a deep breath and stepped into the cubicle. Once

the door closed behind me, the one in front of me clicked open as well.

This place was covered just a little too well for the hood we were in.

“How may I help you?” the tall, stooped man behind the counter

asked when I walked in. His heavy accent made it difficult to understand

him. My best guess was Hungarian, but I’d only known one guy with a

Hungarian accent so I wasn’t sure.

“I was told you buy gold.”

“Ricky sent you over,” he said. I nodded. “Well, let us see the bar.”

His spindly hand waved me forward.

My hands were so shaky I almost dropped the bar when I tried to

give it to him. For a second, I wondered if it was a fake and Christopher

was laughing his ass off at us right now. No, Christopher was probably

ready to kill us right now.

The man was carefully inspecting the bar, doing whatever it

was he did to verify its authenticity. I glanced around while he did

his thing. Glass cases formed a U along three walls and were filled

with various jewelry, heavy gold cuffs, tennis bracelets, diamond

encrusted Rolexes. The walls were covered in photographs of

celebrities shaking hands with the guy. In some of the photos he was

barely a man, maybe twenty-five, all the way up to his current sixty