might even work on that novel heâd had in the back of his head for years.
Berry was a real hard case. Holding him up for a wad of cash was going to take some doing. But Dudley Slater was no softy, either, no sir. Itâd be pure pleasure to take that manipulating, egotistical little SOB, Gervis Berry, for a pile. Heâd have to be careful, though, Dudley thought as he scratched his itchy beard. Had to keep it on the up-and-up. He couldnât afford any slipups, sure didnât want to be looking overhis shoulder the rest of his life. Berry was mob connected, heâd bet his last pint of blood on it. If he wasnât, it was only because the Cosa Nostra couldnât stand the arrogant bastard, either.
Dudley shifted position again and cursed raggedly as he let out a groan. God, but his back was in bad shape. He was going to have to make a move soon, in more ways than one. That red-haired witch had given him a once-over before she went inside; he was sure of it. He thought heâd attracted the attention of the dude in the pickup, too. That was the trouble with dinky little towns. Too hard to blend into the woodwork.
He was hungry enough to chew the steering wheel. The BLT heâd had for lunch was long gone. Steak and a baked potato, thatâs what he needed. Fat chance. Junk food was all he could afford, timewise. Couldnât risk missing anything.
He leaned over to paw through the litter of candy wrappers and empty chip bags, searching for something he might have missed. A bag of peanuts. It would have to do. The coffee in his thermos was lukewarm, but better than nothing.
He needed to speed things up here. Not only was he sick to death of this game, but the trial was fast heading his way. If that bitch who owned the motel was any indication, he didnât have a hope in hell of getting anything useful out of these people himself. But that was all right, because gorgeous Regina Dalton did. And she would if somebody would just light a fire under her cute little butt. Heâd have to put his mind to the problem. He knew how heâd like to do it, but hey, first things first.
What if, instead, he just gave her a little hand at getting to the lawyer.
Now that was an idea. He popped a handful of salted peanuts into his mouth, then followed them with a swallow of warm coffee. Staring squint-eyed through the windshield, he chewed slowly.
He stopped.
Better yet, he could do a preemptive strike, get in ahead of her. Berry might go for that. No plaintiff, no trial, right? Right.
Yeah, that just might get it.
Yeah.
Old Dudley liked having an alternate plan. Or two. If one thing didnât work, then the other would.
6
R egina half expected to find Kane at Hallowed Ground when she reached the house next morning since he seemed to appear every time she turned around. Lewis Crompton was alone, however, having his breakfast in a sun-splashed room with a Boston fern in the bay window behind the table and his big yellow cat sprawled on the floor beside him. The air was redolent with ham, eggs, chicory-laden coffee, and the heartwarming aroma of the hot golden biscuits stacked on a platter in the middle of the table.
Mr. Lewis rose to his feet as Regina was ushered into the room by the housekeeper. Brushing aside her apologies for appearing uninvited and disturbing him at his meal, he pressed her to have breakfast with him. She wasnât hungry, but accepted a cup of coffee because it appeared he wouldnât go on with his meal otherwise. The housekeeper brought another cup from a sideboard and poured the steaming brew while her employer seated Regina. Then the woman went away, leaving them alone.
Regina cleared her throat the instant the door closed, ready to begin her carefully worded effort to discover something of use to Gervis. Mr. Lewis forestalled her.
âI believe Kane took you out to see the lake yesterday,â he said, all congeniality. âWhat did you think of
Berry was a real hard case. Holding him up for a wad of cash was going to take some doing. But Dudley Slater was no softy, either, no sir. Itâd be pure pleasure to take that manipulating, egotistical little SOB, Gervis Berry, for a pile. Heâd have to be careful, though, Dudley thought as he scratched his itchy beard. Had to keep it on the up-and-up. He couldnât afford any slipups, sure didnât want to be looking overhis shoulder the rest of his life. Berry was mob connected, heâd bet his last pint of blood on it. If he wasnât, it was only because the Cosa Nostra couldnât stand the arrogant bastard, either.
Dudley shifted position again and cursed raggedly as he let out a groan. God, but his back was in bad shape. He was going to have to make a move soon, in more ways than one. That red-haired witch had given him a once-over before she went inside; he was sure of it. He thought heâd attracted the attention of the dude in the pickup, too. That was the trouble with dinky little towns. Too hard to blend into the woodwork.
He was hungry enough to chew the steering wheel. The BLT heâd had for lunch was long gone. Steak and a baked potato, thatâs what he needed. Fat chance. Junk food was all he could afford, timewise. Couldnât risk missing anything.
He leaned over to paw through the litter of candy wrappers and empty chip bags, searching for something he might have missed. A bag of peanuts. It would have to do. The coffee in his thermos was lukewarm, but better than nothing.
He needed to speed things up here. Not only was he sick to death of this game, but the trial was fast heading his way. If that bitch who owned the motel was any indication, he didnât have a hope in hell of getting anything useful out of these people himself. But that was all right, because gorgeous Regina Dalton did. And she would if somebody would just light a fire under her cute little butt. Heâd have to put his mind to the problem. He knew how heâd like to do it, but hey, first things first.
What if, instead, he just gave her a little hand at getting to the lawyer.
Now that was an idea. He popped a handful of salted peanuts into his mouth, then followed them with a swallow of warm coffee. Staring squint-eyed through the windshield, he chewed slowly.
He stopped.
Better yet, he could do a preemptive strike, get in ahead of her. Berry might go for that. No plaintiff, no trial, right? Right.
Yeah, that just might get it.
Yeah.
Old Dudley liked having an alternate plan. Or two. If one thing didnât work, then the other would.
6
R egina half expected to find Kane at Hallowed Ground when she reached the house next morning since he seemed to appear every time she turned around. Lewis Crompton was alone, however, having his breakfast in a sun-splashed room with a Boston fern in the bay window behind the table and his big yellow cat sprawled on the floor beside him. The air was redolent with ham, eggs, chicory-laden coffee, and the heartwarming aroma of the hot golden biscuits stacked on a platter in the middle of the table.
Mr. Lewis rose to his feet as Regina was ushered into the room by the housekeeper. Brushing aside her apologies for appearing uninvited and disturbing him at his meal, he pressed her to have breakfast with him. She wasnât hungry, but accepted a cup of coffee because it appeared he wouldnât go on with his meal otherwise. The housekeeper brought another cup from a sideboard and poured the steaming brew while her employer seated Regina. Then the woman went away, leaving them alone.
Regina cleared her throat the instant the door closed, ready to begin her carefully worded effort to discover something of use to Gervis. Mr. Lewis forestalled her.
âI believe Kane took you out to see the lake yesterday,â he said, all congeniality. âWhat did you think of
Similar Books
