“I left,” he said through a dry throat, “shortly after he entered the picture. I wasn’t surprised to hear things went to shit with him, but I don’t know who killed him.”
Ernie chuckled. “You’ve met him,” he said, giving Jai a waggle of his eyebrows that made Jai crack up. “But unless you stay here for a month or two, I won’t tell you who it was.”
Eric’s breath caught. A puzzle. Hehatedpuzzles. They drove him insane. It was how he got good at his trade. Every death was a perfect puzzle, the kind that, when assembled appropriately, was so seamless only the most discerning minds could figure out how it was put together.
And Ernie had just put a puzzle in his lap and told him he had the key.
He glanced back at the RV and sighed. “How long?” he said after a moment. “How long would it take for the sale to go through?”
“A month,” Ernie said without thought. “I’ll tell Burton you’re putting in an offer, you can have the keys in a month. The hookups will be fine until then, and the weather will stay mild, so the kittens will be safe in there, unless you’d rather leave them in my place when you’re going somewhere.”
Eric frowned at the RV again and thought about the awkwardness of driving it on errands—or even to Baker, which was the nearest town that could be considered a town.
“I’d have to—”
“You can use whatever I’m driving while I’m at work,” Ernie said brightly. “And ask Sonny and Ace to get you a vehicle.”
Eric tried to make that fit. “They could get me an SUV?”
Jai—who worked as a mechanic for the two men—snorted. “Ernie has already told them to be on the lookout for one.”
“Are they a dealership?”
Ernie laughed. “No,” he said. “Not even close.”
Eric Christiansen turned to Jai, hoping for some hints, but the big man only smirked. “I… I don’t understand.”
Jai shrugged. “Understand or don’t understand. Today you can drive my Cadillac if you need to shop. Drop us off at the garage and go on your way.” He frowned. “But maybe do leave the kittens in Ernie’s cat room. Ernie will shut the door and give them a quiet place.”
And like that, Eric’s day, which had started out peaceful and rather… unfocused, had purpose.
“Let me go shower and—”
“Shower here,” Ernie said decisively. “I know you’ve got the posh RV, but seriously, a real shower will give you an orgasm just by not bumping your head.”
Eric slow blinked. “Let me get my clothes and the kittens,” he said with dignity, wondering how Ernie knew he liked to, uhm… in the shower.
“I’m psychic,” Ernie said complacently. “But you should hurry. Ace and Sonny’s will get busy in an hour.”
As Eric strode off—or fled—he was mentally going through the clothes he’d brought with him in the RV and wondering what he had clean, and Ernie’s call of “And bring your laundry!” only sent him scurrying along more quickly.
How had he ended up here again?
Friendly Rattlesnakes
BRADY ADJUSTEDhis cap and watched as the tow truck backed slowly from the two-lane freeway onto the hardpan lot of the auto repair shop that was the only such place that existed this far from Palm SpringsorLas Vegas.
“Are you guyssureyou want this?” he asked. The SUV had been involved in a multicar pileup near Vegas, and while the man who’d driven it had gotten out alive, the car had been totaled. Brady, who sometimes patrolled the desolation between Las Vegas and Baker, including Victoriana, had been told that the scrapyard was backed up, and this was the last vehicle to dispose of. He’d seen various vehicles in construction as he’d passed this strip and the one toward Barstow, and he’d always been impressed by how quickly the project cars worked up.
And yes, he’d noticed the probably illegal street-racing vehicle that they tried to keep hidden on the shady side of the station. The color of a yellowjacket, with black and silver trim, the Ford SHO was a flashy beauty—and Brady had heard whispers of street races in which other rides wouldn’t even show up if they knew the SHO was coming.
He figured he was up to his eyeballs in meth labs and human trafficking, and the last thing he needed to do was bother two guys minding their own, but boy, would he like an excuse to get next to that SHO.
He figured maybe offering a Trojan Horse might do it.
He hadn’t reckoned on slightly less than six-feet of sex-on-legs auto mechanic to be his entrée to that beautiful vehicle, andhe was doing his best reverse psychology to get the man to take him up on the bait.
The auto mechanic eyeballed the smushed SUV with one eyebrow raised in a tanned face. “Want it?” he asked. “Well, sure. We can fix about anything, and another vehicle ain’t no big thing.” He pronounced itvee-hi-cul, which seemed to be some sort of weird aphrodisiac for Brady, and he’d had no idea. “I just need to know how big a chunk of my soul I gotta sell for your busted-ass SUV, Mr. Officer, sir.”
