Overdrive by Dawn Ius

Author:Dawn Ius
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon Pulse

18

The List

Jack–1970 Dodge Super Bee 426

José–1965 Corvette Mako Shark II

Reggie–1968 Chevy ZL1 Camaro

Adam–1970 Dodge Hemi Coronet R/T

George–1968 Corvette Cosma Ray

James–1964 Aston Martin DBS

Eleanor–1967 Mustang Shelby GT500

THE FOUR OF US SIT in the Bellagio lobby, hashing out the plan. The place is distracting, dazzling, all polished marble and gold trim. Truth is, I stick out like a homeless person at the ballet–except this time the satin slipper is on the other foot.

I feel everyone’s eyes on me–most of all Nick’s. He sits so close I’m practically on his lap, and he tenses every time some guy gives me elevator eyes on his way to the casino.

“A very cute valet just parked Dominic’s car,” Chelsea says, grinning. Her plain black dress pants and white blouse are ideal for blending in with the rest of the waitstaff at the hotel restaurant.

“The parking garage is a vault,” Mat says. “You either need your ticket or an employee key card to get inside.”

My stomach drops like a busted tranny. “That explains why I’m dressed like a prostitute.”

Nick whispers in my ear. “Don’t say that. You’re stunning.”

The compliment sucker-punches me. There’s nowhere to look, so I stare at the ceiling. Hundreds of blown-glass flowers hover overhead. In a city known for gaudy neon lights and sparkles, the Bellagio is still one of the classiest hotels.

Not the most expensive on the Strip, but of course, Hollywood has trumped up its notoriety. Ironic, maybe, that we’re about to boost a car here, where George Clooney and his ridiculously cute costars pulled off one of the biggest casino heists in film.

“We could try bribing the valet,” Nick says.

I lean forward and tuck a strand of Chelsea’s hair back up into her wig–she’s gone from fiery redhead to no-nonsense brunette. “We don’t have enough cash.”

Mat glances at his watch. “No time for another plan, amigos. We’re less than fifteen minutes from go time.”

He’s already laid the groundwork. After logging into Dominic’s e-mail, he sent Cherry Moony–like that isn’t a fake name–a revised time for this evening’s date. It gives me about forty-five minutes with Dominic before his real date shows up.

Nick leans in close. “You ready?”

I swallow and nod.

Mat goes over the plan again. I’ll distract the maître d’ with my nonexistent cleavage, while Chelsea slips in behind, disguised as one of the staff. When I’m hooked up with Dominic–provided he doesn’t catch on quick that I’m not the girl he’s been chatting up online–Chelsea will sneak in close enough to pick his pocket, score the valet ticket, and hand it off to Nick. I’ll excuse myself from the date. Nick will grab the car. We’ll all ride off into the sunset.

“Piece of cake, right?” I say.

Nick helps me to my feet, squeezes my hand, and sends me off with Chelsea. I hobble toward the restaurant, my heels click-click-clicking on the patterned marble floor.

“In retrospect, we probably should have avoided spikes,” Chelsea says. “You walk like there’s one up your ass.” She pauses outside one of the storefront windows and I lean on her to take some of the weight off my feet.

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