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He looked in the mirror and saw three young black teens rush out to the Gremlin. He watched as one reached under the car and pulled something out.
What was . . . oh, the envelope!
Those savages will steal anything they think is worth something.
Won’t they be surprised when they find the Wanted sheet.
Then again, maybe they’ll turn him in for the reward.
The kid shoved it inside his sweatshirt, then took off running.
Will Curtis turned at the corner and headed for Germantown Avenue.
[THREE]
Hops Haus Tower, Unit 2180 1100 N. Lee Street, Philadelphia Sunday, November 1, 9:58 P.M.
In the middle of the plush king-size bed facing a panoramic view of the lights along the Delaware River and beyond, Matt Payne and Amanda Law were lying on their left sides, spoon fashion, resting in the glow of the carnally exhausted. Matt had his arms wrapped around Amanda and across her slowly rising and falling bosoms. His right leg was draped over her right hip, his toes tucked back in just above her ankles. When he inhaled, he marveled at her soft warm scent—at once sweet and, from the perspiration, lightly salty—that felt rich in pheromones.
This is as good as it gets, he thought, and he gently kissed the back of her neck.
She grunted softly, appreciatively.
Then, even though his cell phone was in the pocket of his khaki pants that had been unceremoniously dropped on the floor at the far side of the bed and were now under a curled-up Luna, he heard the phone’s distinctive ping! that announced he had an incoming text message.
Okay, we’ve been lying here like this for at least ten minutes, neither of us saying a word. Or moving an inch.
Just intimately intertwined.
And it’s been nice. Incredibly nice.
So would I really ruin everything by checking that message?
I really really really don’t want to fuck up the moment, because—wow!—what a helluva romp that was.
Where does she get the energy? And the deep passion?
Incredible.
Then he heard another ping!
In his arms, Amanda moved a little.
“You’re not,” she softly said. But it was more of a question.
He didn’t reply.
“Are you?” she then said, her tone somewhat incredulous.
He thought: You probably would if it was yours going off.
He said: “Of course not, baby.”
And then there was another: Ping!
Then two others in a row: Ping! Ping!
What the hell?
