Dirty Sex

by Ashley Bartlett

  “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.

  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.

  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?”

  “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 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 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.”

  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?”

  “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.

  “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.

  “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.