Lucky Bang by Deborah Coonts

Author:Deborah Coonts [Deborah Coonts]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781480512108
Amazon: B008G14W9A
Goodreads: 15755062
Publisher: Deborah Coonts
Published: 2012-06-27T14:00:00+00:00

***

Some days it just didn't pay to be alive.

Today was shaping up to be one of them. I'd left Xavier to handle Romeo and the ATF guys, which wasn't all that nice considering the bang man had given me a head start.

Frenchie Nixon.

Under normal circumstances, that slimeball was someone I'd rather see through a long-range scope mounted on a rifle with my finger on the trigger and no witnesses. You see, Frenchie has a problem—he likes to steal stuff.

Our paths had crossed when I'd been head of housekeeping at one of the Big Boss's first properties downtown. Frenchie had been on the engineering staff. While he'd been a whiz at fixing stuff, he also had been really good at swiping it when we weren't looking. Televisions, radios, light fixtures, you name it. Even if it was nailed down or screwed into the studs in the wall, he'd take it. When he was caught, he had three or four huge storage units full of the stuff. And that was the real curious thing—he didn't take it to sell it. No, he took it to just have it.

But I knew he wasn't above unloading it when the heat was on.

And sitting on a cache of Class A explosives had to be a hot seat, especially in this day and age where folks saw terrorists under every rock. I'd just bet Frenchie was sweating bullets. In fact, I was banking on it.

Dane caught me striding across the lobby. "You have that look in your eye." He fell into step beside me.

"You mean bordering on the brink of homicide?"

He shot me a grin that lit his eyes. "Care to elaborate?"

"If you want to join me, I'll fill you in on the way."

"Not fair. You know I can't resist an invitation to a future crime."

The Ferrari was waiting at the curb, engine running, top down. The valet wiped away a drop of drool as he grinned and opened the driver-side door for me with a flourish. Men used to drool over me, now it was my car—I tried not to be bothered by that. Of course, I was well beyond wanting to turn the heads of nineteen-year-olds. At least that's what I told myself.

With several axes to grind, I stomped on the accelerator and squealed down the drive, then turned north on the Strip.

Dane had a white-knuckled grip on the handhold. "Feel better?"

"Not yet." I took a left on Sahara and tried not to look at the shuttered hotel by the same name. I guessed there were heydays for each of the properties, but I hated it when one had run its course and was relegated to a memory. Wheeling onto the north on-ramp to the 15, I let the horses run, savoring the hit of speed-induced adrenaline.

"If you weren't such an awesome gal, I'd still be tempted to hang with you just for your Italian iron."

I shot him a narrow-eyed look. "This is probably not the time to jerk my chain."

"It's the only time—you're unarmed.

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