Jeff Abbott - Cut and Run

‘No time for you anymore?’ he said. In the mirror he was watching her chest, covered by thin white Lycra. She’d taken off all the computer crap; it lay in a jumble on her makeup table, like a system undergoing repair.

She took out the other earphone. ‘He’s watching a basketball game. He’s in a real sour mood.’

‘Word is you’re his new girl.’

‘Word is.’

‘That blond guy you were talking with.’

‘Yeah?’

‘What’d you talk about?’

‘He’s a scout for a movie production company. Looking to film a few scenes here.’ She examined her lipstick in the mirror.

Bucks was silent. ‘He run a tab?’

‘Yeah. Why?’ Now she watched his face in the mirror.

‘No reason. A movie here, that’d be cool.’

She said nothing, watching him with a wry smile.

‘What’s your problem?’ he said.

‘Did you get punched in the eye? It’s starting to swell,’ Tasha said. ‘Paul isn’t going to like that.’

‘Why would he care?’

‘A black eye, that’s a good advertisement for a bad-ass. Really shows you command respect.’

‘I fell on the stairs, hit the railing,’ he said, and as soon as the words were out he regretted them, saw she knew he was lying. Little Miss Smart Mouth, uppity and acting like her brain was as big as her tits. He wanted to reach out, grab those perfect breasts, and twist them in a fierce squeeze until she screamed. But she was Paul’s now. If Kiko Grace or these Detroit dinks had their way, Paul would go for a long swim in Galveston Bay. And Miss Smart Mouth could join Paul, when Bucks was through with her.

‘You should be more careful on that thick carpet,’ she said. ‘Watch your step.’

‘Don’t you need to go shake your tits for the slack-jawed masses?’ he said.

‘I doubt Paul wants you talking to me that way,’ she said, and left as Red Robin, sweaty from a lap dance, came in to towel off.

‘Hey, sugar,’ Bucks said. He had decided being real sweet was a good idea right now.

Robin gave him a quick kiss. ‘Hi. What happened to your eye, baby?’

‘Fell and hit the staircase, like a dumbass.’

Robin kissed the mark by his eye. ‘Angel baby. I’ll go to the kitchen, get you an ice bag.’

‘In a minute. I want you to do me a favor. Keep an eye on Tasha. Tell me what she’s up to.’ Bucks put his arms around her, gave her another short little kiss.

‘Up to? She’s shaking her ass, just like me. Not up to anything.’

‘I want to be sure she’s not screwing over Paul.’

‘Um, okay,’ Robin said. ‘I’ll keep an eye on her. We staying at your place tonight?’

‘It’s gonna be a late night, sweetie. Deals and all. You go on home. I’ll see you tomorrow night.’

‘Let me get you that ice pack.’

‘Get it to go. I got things to do.’ He gave her an affectionate swat on her thonged rear as she went out the door.

Bucks went back into the club, found the waitress who’d waited on the table in question. The charge card was to Whitman Mosley. The ugly jerk who had come up to the room with Desire O’Malley hadn’t used a credit card, had paid strictly cash.

Whitman Mosley. The name did not ring a bell. Maybe the guy was using a pseudonym that would not be recognized as a Vasco loyalist from Detroit. But the guys’ story… well, he didn’t quite believe it. Because they were too interested in Eve. Didn’t ask about the other players in the Houston organization. And the blond guy had a too-weird, nervous-sad look on his face when Bucks talked about Eve. None of it sounded right to him.

He dialed his cell phone, calling Nicky, one of the guys who’d interrupted his discussion with the two men.

‘Yeah?’ Nicky said.

‘You following them?’

‘Yeah. About six cars back. Now we’re on Buffalo Speedway. They’re driving aimlessly. Like they’re deciding where to go.’

‘Don’t lose them,’ he said. ‘I will kill you if you lose them.’ He clicked off the phone, stepped back out into the thrum of the club.

He should call Kiko. He didn’t want to.

He took a calming breath. Go deep, he thought. Be centered. Keep your focus on the goal. Many will seek to pull the goal away from you. Destroy them. But never lose sight of the goal.

Bucks walked upstairs to Frank Polo’s office. Frank was there, sitting on the couch, his hand now neatly stitched. A glass of pinot grigio sat on the side table, beaded with cold. The Bellinis had a doctor on call who liked discounted cocaine, didn’t mind house calls, and thought discreetness a saintly virtue. The doctor was leaving now, and he nodded politely at Bucks, then looked again at him.

‘You want a compress for your eye? It’s gonna go shiner,’ Doc Brewer said.

‘No, thank you.’

The doctor left.

Bucks sat down next to Frank. Handed him the cold glass of wine. Put a hand on Frank’s shoulder.

‘Let’s be realistic. I can’t compete with you on landing the ninety thousand.’ Bucks shrugged. ‘Eve’s gonna contact you. You know it. I know it.’

Frank swallowed a gulp of the wine. Then another, watching Bucks. Waiting.

‘We’re on Paul’s shit list. But he still has faith in both of us. Or we’d be heading for the bay right now.’

‘He’s pretty goddamned mad.’

‘He’s mad, yes. But Frank, you and I are all he has left to make a go of this deal with Kiko. He needs you and me to be his team to help make it happen.’ Bucks slid into his business-meeting voice, smooth, ready to rally the troops. ‘You help us find Eve and I guarantee I can get him to forgive your stealing. You can even keep the ninety thou.’

‘A team.’ Frank considered the idea, tenting his cheek with his tongue. ‘Fine, Bucks, we’re a team. So don’t lord over me that I made a mistake, okay? It was a loan.’

‘I understand,’ Bucks said. ‘I do, man. I know what tough times are like. I wish you’d asked us for the money up front.’

‘Paul might have said no.’

‘To you? Never. You’re the closest thing to a dad he’s got.’

Frank held up his bandaged hand.

‘Okay, an uncle, then.’

‘Sucking up isn’t you,’ Frank said. ‘You don’t have to bother trying with me, Bucks.’

Bucks gave him a crooked smile. ‘Fine. Are we supposed to believe you manipulated credit cards and book entries on your own to the tune of ninety grand? You’re a singer. You’re not an accountant. Eve set it up, didn’t she?’

Now Frank stared into the yellow of his wine.

‘Didn’t she, Frank?’ Bucks said quietly.

‘She might’ve,’ Frank said after a moment.

‘Ah. A breakthrough,’ Bucks said. ‘But your girlfriend took off, left you holding the bag. You can pick ’em, Frank.’

‘I’ve not been lucky with women,’ Frank said. ‘Most singers aren’t.’

‘Artistic temperament,’ Bucks said. ‘Joe Vasco.’

Frank made the sign of the evil eye.

‘Am I supposed to know what that means?’ Bucks said.

‘I can’t stand Joe Vasco.’

‘You been in touch with him, huh? Wanting old friends to take over Tommy’s ops now that Paul’s pissing you off?’

‘Joe Vasco isn’t my friend,’ Frank said. ‘He’s not a friend to any friend of Tommy Bellini.’

‘Let’s be sure of that, Frank. You and Eve, you’re not on a new payroll?’

‘If I was, then I wouldn’t need to borrow ninety grand, would I?’

‘Point taken,’ Bucks said.

Frank’s Valiumed smile faded. ‘I’m going home.’

Bucks grabbed Frank’s bandaged hand, dug his nails into the stitches. Frank yelled. Wine sloshed onto the carpet. ‘You’re gonna let me know if you hear from her, right, Frank?’

‘Yes. Yes.’