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She shot me a smile before rolling her eyes. "You've never seen my tits."
"And ain't that a real shame?"
"Smooth. So, what did you find on the phone?"
"Looks like Thomas is using a burner. But they have been in contact. Something about blackjack and making money to get out of Dodge."
"I'm guessing there was no mention of where," she said, giving the waitress a smile as she dropped off the carafe of coffee and a bowl full of creamers. At my head shake, she shrugged. "Guess we're up for some gambling tonight then."
"We're? Ya aren't trying to get rid of me anymore?"
"Another set of eyes might be useful this time around."
"'Cause the payout?"
"Yes."
"Ya gonna give me a cut?"
"No."
"What am I gettin' out of this deal then?"
"The pleasure of my company."
"Well," I said as the plate of her mozzarella sticks which she had no intentions of sharing since she slapped at my hand when I reached for one was dropped, "Guess we got a deal then."FOURLouWe stopped at a motel, the kind with a courtyard in the back, three levels of balconies guaranteeing restless sleep from people constantly passing by, nothing but a chain to keep people with bad intentions at bay.
Then again, I was probably the most dangerous person in the building.
Well, me and Adler, I decided as he unlocked the room beside mine. Because I was getting the feeling that behind the charm, the laid-back demeanor, the sarcasm, something else existed. Something dark. Something with claws, with teeth, with venom. Just waiting for a body to sink into.
A shiver of anticipation moved through me, unwanted, irrational, completely fucking mental. Because in no circumstance should the beast inside him turn me on.
There was no denying, though, as I moved into my room and slid the lock, that that was exactly what it was doing to me. There was a telltale weight to my breasts, a pressure on my lower stomach. A part of me wanted to blame it on my dry spell, something simple and rational. But I was never one for lying, least of all to myself. It was more than that. It was him.
That was ridiculous, of course.
I barely knew him.
But there was something chemical there, hormones reacting to pheromones.
My body was picking up what he was putting down.
Which might become problematic given my lack of impulse control and his close proximity. Both here at the hotel and back home in Navesink Bank.
I mean, not that it would get messy or anything. He was a love 'em and leave 'em kind of man. I was not a relationship kind of woman. We both knew how it went. We took what we could from one another until we were both satisfied. Or until the sex got old. Then we moved on. No big deal. No hard feelings.
It was just easier not to run into your fuck buddies in the hall every other day.
And, well, I certainly didn't need a distraction on the job. At least not this job. This job that meant a break from town-jumping and skip-chasing for a while. A job that meant I could get back to what I really wanted to do. A job where the mark was clearly looking for ways to cross borders. Not that I was opposed to skipping over the south or north border, and hauling his ass back with me. But it would just take longer, be more annoying. Better to stay focused while he was still in the area, catch him, turn him in, and get my check.
I did not want to be getting all lured in by his cock.
Case closed.
"Hey, Neighbor," his voiced called, a knock accompanying it, advertising the shoddy construction of the place, the thin walls making the ugly dimestore watercolor of the ocean above my bed jump ominously, making me wonder if the thing might crash down on the head of someone renting out the room for some rough and nasty.
"What?"
"What time are we heading out?"
"Seven," I shot back, tossing my bag on the bed, figuring it gave me enough time to rest my eyes, do a little research, and tart myself up a bit.
I'd done a lot of jobs.
I found smoky eyes and tight dresses opened up a new world for me. And I was not above using feminine wiles to get exactly what I wanted out of someone. So long as I found somewhere to stash some kind of weapon.
That place often ended up being my inner thigh or down my blouse, whichever was more forgiving depending on the outfit.
I'd only packed one dress, black, short, slinky, leaving next to nothing to the imagination, and with little choice but to only go with a pocketknife wedged between my tits.
It would do.
I'd make it work.
I rolled my neck before kicking out of my shoes and jeans, shrugging off my jacket, yanking off my shirt, leaving me in underwear and a wifebeater as I stripped the bed, tossing all the bedding onto the floor, knowing this kind of place wasn't known for its cleanliness, then lifting the mattress to check for bed bugs just in case. I'd been burned before. I wasn't going to get bit to shit again. Finding nothing, I threw out the sheet I carried with me for this very purpose, covering the fitted sheet and pillows of the full-sized bed before throwing myself down on it with a sigh.
