chirped in my bag. It's me, ' Connie said. 'Vinnie just left for the day, and his last directive was that you're responsible for Carol Cantell. He doesn't want any screw-ups. '
'Sure, ' I said. 'You can count on me. ' I disconnected, blew out a sigh, and dialed Ranger's man, Tank. The conversation with Tank was short. Yes, Ranger had given him instructions to turn the truck over to me. Delivery would take about twenty minutes.
I put the time to good use by rationalizing my actions. I had no choice. I had to take the truck, right? How else would I do my job?
And if I didn't do my job I wouldn't get paid. And then I wouldn't be able to make my rent payment. True, my sister was paying the rent these days on my apartment, and I was living rent-free with
Morelli. But that could change at any moment. Suppose Valerie suddenly moved out?
What then? And it wasn't as if I was married to Morelli. We could have a big fight, and I could be on my own again. In fact, now that I was getting the truck a big fight was almost a certainty. This was an exhausting thought. Life was fudging complicated.
The truck arrived exactly on time, followed by the black SUV.
Tank got out of the truck and handed me the keys.
To say that Tank is a big guy is oversimplification. Tank is a tank.
His freshly shaved head looks buffed up with Pledge. His body is perfectly toned and fat free. His ass is tight. It's rumored that his morals are loose. And his black T-shirt looks painted onto him.
Hard to tell what Tank thinks of me. Or, for that matter, if Tank thinks at all.
'Call me if there's a problem, ' Tank said. Then he got into the
SUV and took off.
Just like that... I had a truck. Not just any old truck, either. This was a wicked, bad-ass, four-door supercrew with oversized cast aluminum wheels, a whole herd of horses under the hood, tinted windows, and GPS. Not to mention a slew of gadgets about which
I was clueless.
I'd ridden with Ranger, and I knew he always had a gun tucked away, hidden from view. I climbed behind the wheel, felt under the seat, and found the gun. If it had been my truck and my gun, I'd have removed the gun. Ranger left it in place. Trusting.
I cautiously turned the key in the ignition and eased the truck into the flow of traffic. The Buick drove like a refrigerator with wheels. The truck drove like a monster Porsche. I decided if I was going to drive the truck I was going to need a whole new wardrobe.
Ten Big Ones
Page: 65
And I should trade in my sneakers for boots. And probably I needed sexier underwear... A thong, maybe.
I crossed town, drove a couple blocks on Hamilton, and slipped into the Burg. I was taking the long way home to Joe's house. Always procrastinate the unpleasant. Morelli wouldn't be happy about me going off with Lula, but he'd understand. Going off with Lula when he'd asked me to stay in the house would generate the sort of anger that could be worked off with a half hour of vicious channel surfing.
The truck was going to provoke a full-blown contest of wills.
I turned the corner onto Slater and felt my heart roll over in my chest. Morelli was home. His SUV was parked in front of the house. I lined up behind the SUV and told myself it might not be so bad. Morelli was a reasonable guy, right? He'd see that I had no choice. I had to take Ranger's truck. It was the sensible thing to do.
And besides, it was my business. Just because you lived with someone didn't mean they ran your life. I didn't tell Morelli how to conduct his business, did I? Well, okay, maybe once in a while I stuck my nose in there. But he never listened to me! That's the important point here.
Problem was, it wasn't actually about the truck. It was about
Ranger. Morelli knew he might not be able to help me if I was standing next to Ranger when Ranger was operating outside the law. And Morelli had enough of his own wild years to understand the feral side of Ranger's sexuality. Another good reason not to have
'Sure, ' I said. 'You can count on me. ' I disconnected, blew out a sigh, and dialed Ranger's man, Tank. The conversation with Tank was short. Yes, Ranger had given him instructions to turn the truck over to me. Delivery would take about twenty minutes.
I put the time to good use by rationalizing my actions. I had no choice. I had to take the truck, right? How else would I do my job?
And if I didn't do my job I wouldn't get paid. And then I wouldn't be able to make my rent payment. True, my sister was paying the rent these days on my apartment, and I was living rent-free with
Morelli. But that could change at any moment. Suppose Valerie suddenly moved out?
What then? And it wasn't as if I was married to Morelli. We could have a big fight, and I could be on my own again. In fact, now that I was getting the truck a big fight was almost a certainty. This was an exhausting thought. Life was fudging complicated.
The truck arrived exactly on time, followed by the black SUV.
Tank got out of the truck and handed me the keys.
To say that Tank is a big guy is oversimplification. Tank is a tank.
His freshly shaved head looks buffed up with Pledge. His body is perfectly toned and fat free. His ass is tight. It's rumored that his morals are loose. And his black T-shirt looks painted onto him.
Hard to tell what Tank thinks of me. Or, for that matter, if Tank thinks at all.
'Call me if there's a problem, ' Tank said. Then he got into the
SUV and took off.
Just like that... I had a truck. Not just any old truck, either. This was a wicked, bad-ass, four-door supercrew with oversized cast aluminum wheels, a whole herd of horses under the hood, tinted windows, and GPS. Not to mention a slew of gadgets about which
I was clueless.
I'd ridden with Ranger, and I knew he always had a gun tucked away, hidden from view. I climbed behind the wheel, felt under the seat, and found the gun. If it had been my truck and my gun, I'd have removed the gun. Ranger left it in place. Trusting.
I cautiously turned the key in the ignition and eased the truck into the flow of traffic. The Buick drove like a refrigerator with wheels. The truck drove like a monster Porsche. I decided if I was going to drive the truck I was going to need a whole new wardrobe.
Ten Big Ones
Page: 65
And I should trade in my sneakers for boots. And probably I needed sexier underwear... A thong, maybe.
I crossed town, drove a couple blocks on Hamilton, and slipped into the Burg. I was taking the long way home to Joe's house. Always procrastinate the unpleasant. Morelli wouldn't be happy about me going off with Lula, but he'd understand. Going off with Lula when he'd asked me to stay in the house would generate the sort of anger that could be worked off with a half hour of vicious channel surfing.
The truck was going to provoke a full-blown contest of wills.
I turned the corner onto Slater and felt my heart roll over in my chest. Morelli was home. His SUV was parked in front of the house. I lined up behind the SUV and told myself it might not be so bad. Morelli was a reasonable guy, right? He'd see that I had no choice. I had to take Ranger's truck. It was the sensible thing to do.
And besides, it was my business. Just because you lived with someone didn't mean they ran your life. I didn't tell Morelli how to conduct his business, did I? Well, okay, maybe once in a while I stuck my nose in there. But he never listened to me! That's the important point here.
Problem was, it wasn't actually about the truck. It was about
Ranger. Morelli knew he might not be able to help me if I was standing next to Ranger when Ranger was operating outside the law. And Morelli had enough of his own wild years to understand the feral side of Ranger's sexuality. Another good reason not to have
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