Down Deep: A Station Seventeen Engine Novel by Kimberly Kincaid

Author:Kimberly Kincaid [Kincaid, Kimberly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kimberly Kincaid Romance
Published: 2018-06-17T18:30:00+00:00

16

Rusty heard The Money far before he saw the glare of the space-age-looking xenon headlights cut through the darkness around him. The finely tuned sound of the guy’s luxury sedan, too sophisticated to be a growl, yet too powerful to be classified as a regular old rumble, sounded off in a showy display of prestige as The Money pulled to a stop about twenty feet from where Rusty stood on the litter-choked sidewalk on the outskirts of Grant Park. The self-importance of a two hundred-thousand dollar Aston Martin was all sorts of ironic in this situation, considering Rusty was the only person who would see the pompous jackass driving it.

But that was Chaz Fucking McCory for you. Better to look good than feel good.

Or, God forbid, actually be good.

Scaling back on his eye roll, Rusty kicked his feet into motion and strolled toward Chaz’s car. They knew better than to meet in a place that could remotely be considered public—Rusty for practical, cover-his-ass reasons, and McCory likely because he didn’t want to be seen with the riff-raff. The fact that ol’ Chaz had even dipped down low enough on the food chain to approach him for this job had been enough of a shocker to grab Rusty’s attention from the get. Then again, greed knew no societal boundaries.

Guys like Chaz just called it ambition so they could sleep at night.

“Nice suit,” Rusty said after Chaz got out of the Aston Martin, mentally picturing how much gasoline it would take to torch the thing right down to its fancy aluminum frame.

“Thank you.” Chaz shot his cuffs, picking imaginary lint from one flawlessly tailored sleeve as if crossing the limits into North Point had made him dirty by default. “I’m headed to a gallery opening by the Plaza after this.”

Rusty swallowed his snort. Art was just reaaaaallllllyyyyyy expensive kindling as far as he was concerned. “Of course you are. Saw you on the news the other day. You’re quite the community activist.”

“I didn’t realize we were here for small talk.” Chaz lifted a professionally groomed brow, and just like that, Rusty’s indifference became irritation. Chaz might have enough money to be gunning for a spot on Forbes magazine’s Top 500 Richest People one day, but he still ate and shit and bled, just like everybody else.

“Fine, your majesty,” Rusty bit out. “Let’s get down to it, then. The remote ignition device obviously works, just like I told you it would. All the loose ends in testing it have been taken care of”—a smile hooked over his mouth at the memory of watching the Camry burn, growing bigger as the mental image of Xander watching his own flesh scorch joined in—“so I’m ready for the next phase.”

Chaz sniffed the air, looking at Rusty through the fluorescent glare of the streetlight a half a block away, on the corner. “Actually, I don’t think you are.”

“Excuse me?” Rusty’s brows shot high over his forehead, but still, Chaz didn’t change his tune.

“My source at the department

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