cheeks.
“Are you sure you want to take them for a visit?” Cate asked wearily.
Sheila, too, took a deep breath. “I’ll get back to you on that,” she said.
7
BECAUSE OF THE TIME CHANGE, GOSS AND TOXTEL ARRIVED in Boise early in the evening. Goss figured the plane tickets had cost a fortune, purchased at the last minute as they were, but that wasn’t his problem. Rather than make the rest of the trip that night, which would have meant they’d have been driving the last leg on unfamiliar mountain roads when they were both tired, they booked into a hotel close to the airport.
In the morning they would procure weapons, then take a prop plane to an airstrip about fifty miles from their destination. The plane was a private hire, so they’d have no problems taking the weapons aboard. Faulkner had arranged for some model of four-wheel-drive vehicle to be waiting for them at the airstrip. They’d drive the rest of the way to Trail Stop, where he’d booked them a reservation at Nightingale’s Bed and Breakfast. Staying in the place they’d be searching was only logical, because that gave them a reason to be there.
After they ate dinner in the hotel’s restaurant, Toxtel went up to his room, while Goss decided to see something of Boise—specifically, something female. He caught a cab and hit a crowded singles bar, fending off a few women who didn’t appeal to him before settling on a pretty, wholesome-looking brunette named Kami. He hated cutesy names like that, but time was short and it wasn’t as if she were going to be in his life for any longer than it took for him to scratch his itch, then put on his clothes and leave.
They went to her condo, a cramped two-bedroom. He was always amazed when women he’d just met invited him to their homes. What were they thinking? He might be a rapist, a murderer. Okay, so he was a murderer, but only if he was paid. The ordinary citizen was perfectly safe with him. But Kami didn’t know that, and neither had any of those other women.
When they were lying exhausted and sweaty, side by side but no longer connected by even the pretense of emotion, he said, “You should be more careful. You lucked out with me, but what if I’d been some nutcase who collected eyeballs, or something like that?”
She stretched, arching her back and pushing her breasts toward the ceiling. “What if I’m the nutcase who collects eyeballs?”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
Something in her tone made his eyes narrow. They stared at each other in the lamplight, her dark gaze going flat, and he let his own gaze show his cold emptiness. “Then I guess we both lucked out,” he finally said.
“Yeah? How do you figure?”
“I warned you—and you warned me. ” Meaning that she couldn’t get the jump on him now, and if she valued her life she wouldn’t try. So what if he was naked; so was she. She might have a knife stuck under the mattress—shades of Basic Instinct —but he was prepared to break her neck if he saw either of her hands start to inch under the pillow or toward the side of the bed.
Slowly, deliberately, she spread her hands wide…and smiled, her head cocked and her eyes flirting with him. “Had you going there for a minute, didn’t I?”
“Just keep your hands where they are,” he said coolly, sliding out of bed and reaching for his clothes. He didn’t turn his back on her for even a second.
“Oh, please. I’m no more a killer than you are.”
Wasn’t that reassuring? If she only knew. But the prickling on the back of his neck told him not to let down his guard, no matter what she said or how convincing she was. “Maybe you’ve hit on the perfect way to kick a man out of your bed after you’ve finished fucking him,” he said as he pulled on his shorts and pants. “In which case, congratulations—unless the next guy you pull it on thinks you’re about to pop his eyeballs out of his skull and freaks on you. That’s a good way to get the shit
“Are you sure you want to take them for a visit?” Cate asked wearily.
Sheila, too, took a deep breath. “I’ll get back to you on that,” she said.
7
BECAUSE OF THE TIME CHANGE, GOSS AND TOXTEL ARRIVED in Boise early in the evening. Goss figured the plane tickets had cost a fortune, purchased at the last minute as they were, but that wasn’t his problem. Rather than make the rest of the trip that night, which would have meant they’d have been driving the last leg on unfamiliar mountain roads when they were both tired, they booked into a hotel close to the airport.
In the morning they would procure weapons, then take a prop plane to an airstrip about fifty miles from their destination. The plane was a private hire, so they’d have no problems taking the weapons aboard. Faulkner had arranged for some model of four-wheel-drive vehicle to be waiting for them at the airstrip. They’d drive the rest of the way to Trail Stop, where he’d booked them a reservation at Nightingale’s Bed and Breakfast. Staying in the place they’d be searching was only logical, because that gave them a reason to be there.
After they ate dinner in the hotel’s restaurant, Toxtel went up to his room, while Goss decided to see something of Boise—specifically, something female. He caught a cab and hit a crowded singles bar, fending off a few women who didn’t appeal to him before settling on a pretty, wholesome-looking brunette named Kami. He hated cutesy names like that, but time was short and it wasn’t as if she were going to be in his life for any longer than it took for him to scratch his itch, then put on his clothes and leave.
They went to her condo, a cramped two-bedroom. He was always amazed when women he’d just met invited him to their homes. What were they thinking? He might be a rapist, a murderer. Okay, so he was a murderer, but only if he was paid. The ordinary citizen was perfectly safe with him. But Kami didn’t know that, and neither had any of those other women.
When they were lying exhausted and sweaty, side by side but no longer connected by even the pretense of emotion, he said, “You should be more careful. You lucked out with me, but what if I’d been some nutcase who collected eyeballs, or something like that?”
She stretched, arching her back and pushing her breasts toward the ceiling. “What if I’m the nutcase who collects eyeballs?”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
Something in her tone made his eyes narrow. They stared at each other in the lamplight, her dark gaze going flat, and he let his own gaze show his cold emptiness. “Then I guess we both lucked out,” he finally said.
“Yeah? How do you figure?”
“I warned you—and you warned me. ” Meaning that she couldn’t get the jump on him now, and if she valued her life she wouldn’t try. So what if he was naked; so was she. She might have a knife stuck under the mattress—shades of Basic Instinct —but he was prepared to break her neck if he saw either of her hands start to inch under the pillow or toward the side of the bed.
Slowly, deliberately, she spread her hands wide…and smiled, her head cocked and her eyes flirting with him. “Had you going there for a minute, didn’t I?”
“Just keep your hands where they are,” he said coolly, sliding out of bed and reaching for his clothes. He didn’t turn his back on her for even a second.
“Oh, please. I’m no more a killer than you are.”
Wasn’t that reassuring? If she only knew. But the prickling on the back of his neck told him not to let down his guard, no matter what she said or how convincing she was. “Maybe you’ve hit on the perfect way to kick a man out of your bed after you’ve finished fucking him,” he said as he pulled on his shorts and pants. “In which case, congratulations—unless the next guy you pull it on thinks you’re about to pop his eyeballs out of his skull and freaks on you. That’s a good way to get the shit
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