Dirty Sex (20 page)

years. Everyone was up there, from Wayne Newton to Harrison Ford.

What the hell were they doing in a dive like this? Or maybe this shop

wasn’t always located here.

When he made a noise of approval, I returned my attention to

him. He ran his fingers over the numbers engraved on the top of the bar.

Then he typed something into the ancient computer on the counter and

told me the amount. Holy shit.

“So you’ll buy it then?” I was playing cool.

“Yes, of course. It is quite beautiful,” he mused. “Is it not?” We

both gazed at the gleaming surface that seemed to emit light rather than

reflect it.

“Very.”

He nodded, satisfied that I appreciated the bar. “I will get your

money.”

“Thank you.”

• 142 •

Dirty Sex

Ten minutes later, I was back on the sidewalk. The backpack was

much fuller and much lighter. Up ahead, I could see the side of Reese’s

car. As I started going toward it, a guy turned the corner and started

walking in my direction. He looked older than me, maybe forty, so I

ignored him. He wasn’t exactly young thug material. When he didn’t

move to one side for me to walk by, I got worried. I knew I was just

paranoid though so I kept going. When I started to pass him, he grabbed

my arm and dragged me into one of the alcoves.

“What the fuck?” I shrugged his hand off my arm. “Get the hell off

me.” I pushed him aside and walked into a wall of flesh. Shit.

“What’s in the bag?” the guy behind me asked.

“Nothing. Let me go.” The backpack was jerked down my arms

and the wall of flesh laughed. He grabbed the front of my sweatshirt and

pulled me up close to his face. The stench of old cigars and peppermint

invaded my nostrils. The guy behind me unzipped the backpack.

“That’s a lot of cash, kid,” he said. “Take a look at that, Vic.”

The grip on my sweatshirt was eased enough for Vic to lean

forward and look in the bag.

“Where’d you get the money, kiddo?”

“Your mom.” Why did I say that?

“What?” Vic yanked up so I was inches from his fat face.

“Your mom.” Might as well roll with it. “She likes the way I lick

her pu—”

I was thrown into the wall next to me. I tried to put my hands up in

time to catch myself. It didn’t work. Vic came up behind me and pushed

my face into the rough cement. Then he pulled my head back by my

hair, scraping my face against the wall.

“He thinks he’s funny, Gino.”

“I’m a girl, douche bag.” It came out before I could stop it.

Vic let go of me. I stepped away from the wall. There was nowhere

to go. Where the fuck was Reese with her PPKs now?

“You get that, Gino?” Vic grinned, an unnatural twist of flesh and

too white teeth. “It’s a girl.” My stomach turned. I was an idiot.

“Are you done with the obvious? I gotta go.” I tried to grab

the backpack and push past them. The shorter one backhanded me. I

stumbled back, tasting blood.

“Here’s how this is going to work. We ask questions, you answer

them. Got it?” I didn’t answer fast enough. He slapped me again. “You

got it?”

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AShley BArtlett

“Whatever.” I wasn’t telling them shit. My mouth started to slowly

fill with blood.

“Where’d you get the cash?” Vic asked.

I hawked some blood and spit onto his loafers. “I told you. Your

mom.” This time he just punched me in the stomach. I doubled over and

yelled obscenities at the pavement. He grabbed my sweatshirt again

and made me stand up straight.

“New question. Where are those bastard kids?”

Shit. “I don’t have any kids.” I played dumb. Vic didn’t buy it. He

did punch me in the stomach again though.

“Where are the goddamn twins?” He tossed me back into the wall.

My head smacked into the cement making it throb.

“Where’s Ryan?” Gino stepped up to the plate when I didn’t

answer. Vic must have been tired. Beating up girls is hard.

“I don’t know anyone named Ryan.” Gino punched me in the ribs

this time. I spit some more blood at him. He grabbed me by the hair and

pushed my face back into the wall. His body pressed into mine, pinning

me. I tried not to hyperventilate.

“How about pretty little Reese?” he murmured in my ear. The rasp

of his voice when he said her name made me want to kill him.

“Bitch, I’m gonna drop you like a bad habit.” I struggled to push

him off. I was going to knock him out. I could do it.

They laughed. “Come on, kid. You’re driving her car. We know

she’s with you,” Vic said.

“I’m right here, you stupid fuck,” came Reese’s voice from behind

us. I couldn’t see anything, but Gino moved away from me. “That’s

right. Get the fuck off of her.”

Finally free, I turned and looked at Reese. She had a handgun

trained on each of them.

“Get over here, babe.”

I didn’t need to be told twice.

“We’ve been looking for you, Reese.” Vic stepped toward her and

started reaching into his jacket.

“Get up against the wall. Hands where I can see them.” Gino

laughed at her instructions. “Do I look like I’m fucking around?”

Neither answered, but they both turned and put their hands on the

wall.

• 144 •

Dirty Sex

“Search them,” she instructed me. “I want guns, cell phones, and

car keys.”

“I’m not touching them.” Fighting some nineteen-year-old punk

with my friends to back me up was way different from those fuckers

kicking the crap out of me.

“Do it.” One look into those cool gray eyes and I jumped to feel

up Gino and Vic. They let me, but it was more like bored indulgence

than fear.

“Come on, honey. Drop the act,” Vic said. I patted him down. He

was packing a massive handgun. I put that on the pavement. Lucky for

me, their car keys were in his jacket pocket. I really didn’t want to reach

into his pants pocket. That would just be disgusting. When I dropped

his cell phone next to his gun, Reese demolished it with a quick stomp

and twist of her heel.

I moved on to Gino. The piece he was carrying joined Vic’s, along

with a knife, a scary serrated number.

“Stop this shit,” Gino advised after Reese killed his cell phone

too. “Just come with us. You won’t be in any trouble.” He sounded like

he was consoling an unruly toddler.

“Sure, why not?” She was being sarcastic. Vic believed her though.

“Good girl.” He spun to face her.

Reese pistol-whipped him. His head flung to the side. “Did I say

you could turn around?” He cupped his face in response. A trickle of

blood seeped between his fingers. “No, you dumb fuck. Now, face the

wall.”

“All right, kiddo, you made your point.” Vic did as he was told.

Warily, he glanced over his shoulder at her.

Reese handed me one of the guns and pointed at Gino. I directed it

at his head. She picked up the knife and stepped closer to Vic.

“I haven’t come close to making my point.” Her tone was scarier

than the gun cradled in her hand. She flicked the knife open. The gun

went to the back of Vic’s neck, forcing him to press his face into the

wall. The knife went between his legs much higher than he wanted it.

“Do you understand me?”

“Yes.” His voice was strained.

“Where’s your car?”

“On the street.” Reese inched the knife higher. “Behind you. The

blue Cadillac,” he rushed to clarify.

• 145 •

AShley BArtlett

“Good. Now walk over there,” Reese said. “And move carefully.

Wouldn’t want to lose anything.” Vic did as he was told. Each footstep

was stilted.

“You too,” I said to Gino. He didn’t move. “Move your ass.” He

shuffled with his head down. Probably just happy there wasn’t a knife

to his balls.

“Open the trunk, babe.” Reese had her hands rather full.

I squinted in the dim light at the piece of plastic until I figured out

which button did what I wanted. The trunk popped open.

“Get in,” Reese said. I laughed.

“We’ll never fit in there.” Vic’s attempt to sway her was useless.

“Sure you will. You’ll just have to spoon,” I said.

Vic almost looked relieved when the knife was removed from his

genitals so he could get in. Almost.

“Not you.” Reese stopped Gino before he climbed in. “How did

you find us?”

“It wasn’t hard.” He shrugged. Not smart.

“How did you find us?” she asked again.

“We looked.”

Reese was livid, but in a cool, deadly sort of way. She traced the

tip of the knife down Gino’s cheek. He sucked in a mouthful of air and

held it. The knife caressed his throat to his collarbone. Reese smiled.

She twisted her wrist so the blade was at the neck of his shirt. Slowly,

very slowly, she slit his shirt open.

“You want to talk?”

He didn’t move, didn’t breathe. I think he finally got that she was

serious.

Reese started tracing down his chest again. This time pressing

hard enough that the blade made a scraping noise on his skin. Every

few inches she dug a little deeper so a bead of blood would emerge

from his chest. It was freaky. I would have thought her cruel except

for the eyes. This was killing her. She wasn’t going to last long. As she

approached the waistband of his slacks, he started to grind his teeth.

“You want to tell us now?” I asked Gino. Reese seemed relieved

to have me take over.

Gino glanced up from the knife on his beer belly. His entire face

had gone slack.

“How did you find us?” Reese asked.

• 146 •

Dirty Sex

“We got a tip,” Gino gasped. “A pit boss at one of the casinos on

the Strip. Don’t know who. This guy told one of our contacts. I don’t

know anything else.”

“Thank you. Now get in the trunk.”

Reluctantly, Gino climbed in with his buddy. Reese slammed the

trunk shut on their surprised faces. Methodically, she picked up the

guns, wiped off any fingerprints with the bottom on her T-shirt, and

tossed them into the front seat. She repeated the process with the knife.

She took the keys from me and tossed them in a nearby trashcan.

“Are you okay?” Her hand trembled when I brushed my fingertips

over it.

Reese nodded curtly. “Are you?”

“Yeah. Just a little beat up.”

“All right. Good.” She was fighting to keep her composure. I

could tell.

• 147 •

• 148 •

Dirty Sex

At the hotel, I shed my clothes, grabbed clean ones, and went

into the bathroom. I checked out my face in the mirror. One

side was covered in scratches from the small peaks of cement. I was

glad Reese held a knife to that dude’s junk.

My shirt was a bitch to get off because my shoulders and ribs

were hurting pretty bad. Other than that, I was fine. It was Reese I was

worried about. She hadn’t looked at me or talked to me the whole way

back.

The steam and hot water felt damn good. As soon as I was under

the spray, the tension in my back eased up a bit. My face stung a little,

but if that was the worst of my problems then I was doing pretty well.

As I walked out of the bathroom in my boxer briefs and T-shirt, I

looked around for Reese. She wasn’t there. Not in her room either.

“Reese?” I tried not to panic.

“I’m right here,” came her voice from the couch.

“Hey.” I crossed the room in a few long strides to kneel in front

of her.

She slowly sat up. Dark hair fell forward covering her face. I

reached up and carefully brushed it back. There were tear tracks on her

cheeks.

“Are you okay?” I asked softly.

She didn’t seem to hear me. “I wanted to hurt them.” Another tear

fell. “When I saw that guy pushing you into the wall, I wanted to kill

him.”

“I wanted to kill Christopher when this happened.” I brushed my

thumb over the fading mark beneath her eye.

• 149 •

AShley BArtlett

“Why?”

“I don’t like seeing you hurt.” I’d thought that was obvious.

“But you hate me,” Reese said. Seemingly unaware, she slid her

hands over mine. Her fingers drew patterns on my palms and wrists.

My hands started to tremble.

“I’ve tried that, but I’m no good at follow through.” My attempt at

humor was lost when my voice shook.

“I don’t hate you either.” She wouldn’t look at me.

“Good, I was real worried.” I tilted her chin up so I could see her

eyes.

“Shut up,” she said when she saw that I was teasing her. We

grinned at each other like idiots. “Does it hurt?” Her warm fingers

traced over the scratches on my face. My spine started to tingle, the

sensation rolling languidly down my back and into my limbs.

“Not really.” I couldn’t even feel the pain anymore. The more she

touched me, the less I felt anything except really good.

“Take off your shirt so I can see.”

I let go of her hands. “I don’t think I should.” Normally, taking off

my shirt wouldn’t have been a problem. Reese had bandaged me up a

million times.

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t be objective anymore.” Either one of us naked

equated to one thing for me now.