Frankie combed her fingers through a veil of her hair. “Was that room service?”
I nodded, pouring her a cup of coffee. I added a pink packet of sugar substitute and a dab of milk to the mug. “Drink up.” I handed her the hot beverage and filled my own cup, adding nothing but undiluted caffeine. “We’ve only got a couple of hours before we have to hit the road,” I said. Last night we cleared twenty grand. We were still about ten short.
“What’s the rush?” She yawned. “Drew’s not even awake.”
“I don’t think Drew’s in any condition to help.” I knocked his door, waiting for an answer. Nothing. I knocked again, louder. I opened it and went in to make sure he was still breathing. Luckily, he was, unfortunately that was all I could say. The room reeked of booze and vomit. Lying naked across the bed with an empty pill bottle inches from his head, Drew slept like the dead. Disgusted, I slammed the door satisfied when he groaned.
Frankie laughed as I opened and closed the door again to torture him. “So what’s the plan?” she asked. I could always count on her. Even when she hated my guts she was willing to do whatever I asked. That thought sent visions of sweaty limbs and exchanged bodily fluids through my head.
Tearing my eyes from the droplet of water slipping between the silk fabric of her kimono and down the valley of her breasts, I said, “I’m going to head down to the casino…check out the action.” I paused, trying hard to keep my breathing normal. “Drink your coffee, eat something, and meet me on the floor in fifteen minutes.”
“Attire?”
“Nothing fancy. We’re going to play it straight. Get in, get out, and we’re on the road by two.” She nodded, and I slipped the .38 in the holster. My jacket concealed it well enough. I gave her a warning look. “Don’t take unnecessary risks and watch your back.”
“Fifteen minutes,” she said.
I nodded and left the suite with a sinking feeling.
******
I peeked at my watch and scanned the casino. No sign of Frankie. She was twenty minutes late, and I started to get concerned. I called the suite ten minutes ago, and no one answered. Where the fuck were they?
“Sir, the bet’s four hundred to you,” the acne-scarred dealer said.
“Call.” I didn’t bother to look at my cards as I tossed the money in the pot. Instead I stared at the lizard like eyes of my opponent. He was a cardsharp’s favorite mark. Too much money and too little common sense. A used car salesman from Dallas, Lizard Man believed he had a foolproof system. Aggressively he bluffed by pitching thousands of dollars into the pot. The corners of his mouth tightened when he had anything big. I was up five grand, and figured it would take another half an hour before I had the full ten.
Where was Frankie?
Lizard Man flung in another five hundred. Reaching for my stack of chips, I raised three. He hurled his cards down. My face remained impassive as I collected in the chips. An urgent hand tapped my shoulder. I turned in my seat, coming face-to-face with Frankie’s c-cups. She stood next to me, anxiety lining her features.
“We should go,” she said, glancing around the casino floor.
Two security guards approached us. Fuck. Now would definitely be a good time. I rose, scooping my pile of chips up and grabbed Frankie’s arm. We pushed past the afternoon crowd, ducking and weaved through sunburned tourist and drunken dentists. The guards were closing in, faces grim.
I dragged Frankie in my wake, knocking over a potted palm at the end of a row of slot machines. Soil spilled across the floor. Without stopping the guards leapt over the dirt pile and fallen tree. “What did you do?” I asked through clenched teeth.
“Nothing.”
“So why are we fleeing?”
She shrugged. “There might have been a small scene. Not my fault.”
“No one died I take it?”
“Not yet,” she joked.
Through the plate glass of the casino door, I saw Drew’s car idling at the curb. We were about a hundred feet away and the guards were closing fast. Fuck. We’d never reach it. I had a choice to make. “Go,” I said, pushing her ahead of me. I stopped and opened my jacket, the .38 visible in my shoulder holster. The guards slowed, now moving with caution.
“Ian, no.” She tugged at my arm.
“Go. Now.” My tone was hard, leaving no room for argument.
She nodded, running for the exit. I smiled as the rumble of the Mustang faded down the street. Thirty seconds later, a muscle-bound security guard put his hand on my shoulder. “Sir, keep your hands where we can see them….”
Chapter 15
Freed from casino security a few hours later, I made my way from the Plaza to the underground parking garage. It took a promise to never to enter the Plaza again and a five thousand dollar bribe before the guards had let me go. They would’ve done so sooner if I hadn’t broken one of their noses after he called Frankie my whore.
In the guard’s defense, Frankie had kicked his ass in front of a casino full of people. A wealthy oil executive from last night’s game had tried to pursue a closer relationship with Frankie, in an empty elevator. He wound up with a black eye as did the guard pulling her off the guy. I scanned the rows of cars in the garage for Drew’s Mustang, narrowing in on it three lanes from the back.
Frankie waited for me, leaning against the fender like a bad beer commercial. Drew was asleep in the driver’s seat. I approached her shaking my head. “You couldn’t have said a polite no thanks?”
She frowned. “I tried, but he wasn’t taking no for an answer.”
“I think he learned his lesson.”
“Ian, I didn’t—”
“It’s all right. We’re ahead forty grand.” Another ten thousand would be easy enough to scrape together. “Let’s get moving. We have to be in D.C. by six.” I opened the car door, motioning for her to get in.
She slammed the door closed, narrowly missing my outstretched hand. “D.C.?”
Damn, I’d forget to tell her. This was going to get messy. “We’re picking Clair up.”
“The same Clair who’d almost got you killed?” She bit out each word.
I grinned. “The very same one.”
“Are you insane?” her yell echoed off the concrete structure.
“Not that I’m aware of.”
“Why?”
I wrapped my arms across my chest. “She saved my life,” I said, which was, in the strictest sense true. Frankie didn’t need to know about the Cayman deal. If she found out there would be hell to pay. She’d want in and I wasn’t about to put her in danger. Look at what had happened in the last twenty-four hours. She’d been accosted twice and I’d almost been arrested. Who knew what would happen if I took her to rob the bank?
“Do you love her?” she asked, her voice quiet.
I chuckled. “Come on, you know better than that. Wilde’s don’t fall in love.” Or at least this Wilde didn’t. Sure, I’d said those three little words before, but I’d never meant them. Love was for other men. Guys that failed to calculate the odds, and more often than not lost.
Frankie stared at me for a long minute. Finally she shook her and opened the car door and without another word she slipped inside. I climbed in after her and we set off. Silence filled the car for the rest of the trip to D.C., which was fine with me. After the last two days, I was happy to sit back and enjoy the peace. I should have known it wouldn’t last.
******
“Ian?” Clair’s tone was uncertain.
I gave her a smile, running my eyes along the soft curves of her body. She looked great, like a naughty Barbie doll in a pink wraparound dress. “Zoë didn’t tell you I was coming?” I asked with complete sincerity, even though I knew damn well she hadn’t. Mostly because I hadn’t said a word to Zoë. I wasn’t stupid. If Zoë knew what I had planned she’d keep Clair far from me.
“No, she didn’t.” Clair bit her bottom lip. “Maybe I should give her a call?”
“Suit yourself,” I said with a Boy Scout smile,
while inside I seethed. I needed Clair to trust me. The three of us, Drew, Frankie and me, stood there, waiting for Clair to make up her mind. I held my breath but kept my face unreadable. If she didn’t agree we were fucked. “It’s only a ride, sweetheart,” I promised, eyes radiating sincerity and charm. “You can trust me.”
Frankie let out a snort and Clair grinned.
I glared at Frankie. “Clair, these are my friends, Drew O’Dell and Frankie Hurley.”
Drew stepped forward, kissing her hand. “It’s a pleasure. Ian’s told me so much about you.” Frankie rolled her eyes, but kept silent. Clair smiled, pulling her hand from his. “It’s nice to meet you, both,” she added looking at Frankie with interest. “Thanks for...the ride.”
“Those your bags?” I asked, wanting to get our little circus on the road. There were four large suitcases sitting behind her. She nodded, and I grabbed the closest one. It must have weighed sixty pounds. What the hell was she carrying? Drew helped me load the car while Frankie squished into the backseat with Clair.
“Ready?” I asked once we were settled. Clair nodded, looking forlorn and a little lost, her face growing more distance and fearful with every mile that past. Guilt snuck up on me, but swallowed it back. In the city, feelings were the enemy, conscience a death wish. The cards had been dealt. It was time to play my hand.
Chapter 16
After a couple of hours on the highway we pulled to the curb in front of O’Malley’s. I stared at the decaying building, seeing it through Clair’s eyes. I’d be surprised if she didn’t run before we reached the front step. “Drew,” I said with a pointed glance at Frankie. “Why don’t you and Frankie get Clair’s bags?” I needed to gain Clair’s agreement before we went any further. For that I had to get rid of Frankie. Drew gave me a blank look until I titled my head toward Clair.
“Oh, right,” he said with a nod. Moron, I thought as Frankie glared at me with suspicion. Drew opened the car door and helped her out of the backseat. Her eyebrow rose in question but she didn’t push.
“So what do you want?” Clair asked once we were alone.
“I need your help.” I’d be as upfront as possible, and if that didn’t work I’d play the guilt card. After all, I had taken a bullet for her. “I want you to come to Grand Cayman with me.”
“You’re going after Jack’s money?”
She was blonde, but not stupid. “Yes. I want you to help me get it.”
“How?”
“Pretend to be Bev,” I told her. She looked at me like I was the dumb one. “We go in with fake passports and the account number, and walk out with twelve million. Piece of cake.”
“That’s crazy.” Her eyes narrowed. “It is not going to be that easy. For one thing, we’ll need Jack’s password.”
That was true, but I had Andy. If anyone could get the password… “I’ll have the code. What I need is a Bev. Are you in or not?” It sounded cold even to my own ears.
“You can be a real bastard, can’t you?”
I nodded.
She stared at me, eyes calculating. “Twelve million, huh?” I nodded again. Biting her lip, she said, “Okay. I’m in.”
Relief washed through me. “Great. One more thing.” I paused, my eyes locked on hers. “You have to keep this quiet. Nobody can know. Not Zoë or Colin.” I glanced to Frankie, who was busy yelling at Drew. “Or anyone else.”
“She doesn’t know?” Clair gestured to Frankie.
“No, and I want to keep it that way.”
“I won’t say a word.” Her expression turned questioning. “Don’t you trust her?”
“With my life.”
Clair winced. “Ian, I—” I waved off her apology. If things went according to plan I’d forgive just about anything. Money can do that. Make a person’s sins much easier to swallow. She nodded, her gaze filled with regret. “When do we leave?”
“One week.” I took her hand. “If you don’t want to do this…it’s okay.”
“I owe you.”
“You don’t owe me a thing.” I tried for sincerity, but missed the mark.
“That must have been hard to say.”
“Even harder to mean.” I grinned.
She laughed, back on familiar ground. I helped her from the car and led her into the bar. Her face fell as we entered the room. Five of our regulars sat watching highlights from the day’s sporting events. They sipped lukewarm beers and smelled like rotting flesh. One guy belched out a welcoming hello.
“Nice place,” she lied, glancing around.
I shrugged, irritation obvious in the set of my shoulders. What did I care what she thought of the bar anyway? O’Malley’s had character. Frankie came up behind me, and amusement replaced my annoyance. “I had Drew put her luggage in your room,” Frankie said, in a tone meant to question my mental ability. The sleeping arrangements had yet to be discussed, but leave it to Frankie to cut to the chase.
Clair glanced at her, lips creased into an awkward smile. “The couch will do.”
“Guess you’re homeless, Frankie,” Drew teased, lifting a beer from the cooler. The pop of the cap echoed in the silence that followed his comment. Fucking Drew. Frankie’s eyes moved to mine. Before I could say anything Drew spoke, “You can crash at my place Frankie. I only have the one bed but I’m sure we can make do.” He waggled his eyebrows.
“I’d rather sleep in the alley,” she responded, heading toward the staircase. I smacked Drew in the back of the head.
With Clair next to me, we followed Frankie up the steps. “Did I say something wrong?” Clair asked with concern.
“No.” I shrugged. “Frankie’s been staying with me.” Clair’s eyebrows rose and I quickly added, “On the couch. She sleeps on the couch.”
Clair stopped Frankie before she could go into the apartment. “I didn’t know,” she whispered, touching Frankie’s arm.
Frankie turned her head away. “No biggie.”
“Why don’t we share the bed and Ian can sleep on the couch?” Clair looked so sincere like she’d solved all our problems. I glared at Frankie. This wasn’t what I had in mind. It wasn’t like I expected Clair to fall into my arms, but I wouldn’t have turned down an invitation to share her bed. I hated that lumpy couch.
Frankie’s smile filled with mischief, enjoying herself at my expense. “That sounds wonderful. We can have pillow fights and stay up late talking about boys...”
“Enough smartass,” I warned, but Clair just laughed.
“What’s it going to take to make you like me?” she questioned, brushing a lock of bleach blonde hair from her eyes.
Frankie sobered. “I don’t like to see Ian hurt. He’s a good man.”
“He’s also standing right here,” I complained.
“I won’t hurt him. Not ever again.”
I sighed loudly, trying to gain their attention. But it didn’t work. Frankie stared at Clair for a long minute and nodded. Apparently whatever she saw in Clair’s gaze had convinced her that Clair wasn’t out to get me. Too bad too, I could have used a little ‘getting’. “Now that that’s settled…” I stood talking to myself as they walked into my bedroom. Damn. Things were not going according to plan.
Chapter 17
“That’s her?” Mickey’s eyes widened the next afternoon as Clair came into the backroom of the bar dressed in tight jeans and a tank top. The black cotton hugged her curves, mocking me. Mickey continued, “It’s no wonder you got shot. I wouldn’t have been paying attention either.”
I glared at him. “I was paying attention.” But he was right. I’d let Clair distract me and it had nearly gotten us killed. I should have expected and prepared for an ambush. I titled back my beer and drank deeply before I picked up the cards in front of me and called Mickey’s bluff.
He grinned, throwing his cards down. “Don’t you ever lose?”
“Nope, some of us are born winners, while others….” I trailed off.
Clair came toward us. “Hi.”
“All settle
d then?” I tipped back in the chair and glanced up at her. My tone conveyed just what I thought about the living arrangements. Last night I spent hours tossing on the couch while Frankie and Clair bonded over hairstyles and tampons. And to make matters worse, this morning I found two sets of panties hanging over the shower curtain. The two women appeared united in the mission of driving me crazy.
“The bed’s real comfortable.” Clair winked at me and then turned to Mickey with interest. He straightened in his chair and patted down a wayward tuff of hair that struck out from the brim of his baseball cap.
“Clair.” I gestured to Mickey. “This is Frankie’s brother and the ass you’re saving.”
“Your name’s not really plonker, is it?” she asked, laughing. I smiled at the Irish slang for idiot and Frankie’s favorite nickname for her dumbass brother. Sadly, it fit him to a tee.
Mickey laughed. “Kid sister. You know how it is.” He took a drink of his beer and glanced at me. “Ian probably didn’t say it, but thanks.”
She blushed, a slow red heat rising up her cheeks. “Don’t thank me yet. I’m not sure I can pull this off.”
“You’ll do fine,” I said, but was having some doubts. Clair was gorgeous, but she lacked the cold classiness of a high society dame like Bev. I hoped Neil could teacher her. Otherwise we’d be shit out of luck and it was onto Plan B. The problem was I didn’t have a Plan B.
Just then, Neil opened the back door and the bright glare of sunlight from the street blinded me. Once my eyes adjusted to the brightness I glanced at him. Neil dressed in black—pants, shirt, glasses and boots. His face was pale and a fine sheen of sweat covered it. His eyes were clouded with pain. My heart gave a small squeeze. I introduced him to Clair.
He stepped back and looked her over carefully. “Well, aren’t you lovely,” he said to her after a few seconds. “So Ian’s filled you in?”
“Yes.” She grinned. “You’re here to make me a cold-blooded bitch. Where do you want to start?”
SHANK (A Wilde Crime Series) Page 6