Rarities Unlimited 02 - Running Scared

Golden Boy’s ass to the courthouse wall hadn’t brought a smile to Rich’s grim face.
    “And I want to cover my ass when the cops start asking me questions,” Rich said.
    Firenze shrugged. “What’s to ask? I won’t mention your name. I’m just letting you preview the gold so I can be sure it’s the sort of thing that will snag Tannahill.”
    “I don’t like it.” It was a snarl as much as a statement. “Tell me how you got the gold or there’s no deal. I’m not buying a pig in a poke.”
    The spike in Firenze’s blood pressure showed in the darkening of his face. He really hated being reminded that he wasn’t top cock of this walk. “My nephew got it from a friend of a friend.”
    “Which nephew?”
    “Cesar.”
    “The one who shot up the Golden Fleece?” Gail asked, drawing Firenze’s angry attention from Rich.
    Firenze grimaced. “Yeah.”
    “Where is he now?” she asked.
    “Cooling off at the lake until we can get him out of the country. He hates the family houseboat, but tough shit. Do him good.”
    Gail hid a smile. The Firenze women’s love of the huge Lake Mead houseboat was the despair of the men, who would rather be staked out on anthills than spend a weekend at the lake. But they did it anyway, at least once a year, along with everyone who was anyone in Las Vegas. Firenze’s Fourth of July bash was as famous as Gail’s own Halloween party.
    Firenze glared at Rich. “You in or out?”
    “I’m thinking.”
    “You got until tomorrow. After that, you ask me about gold and I don’t know shit about nothing.” Firenze shot Rich a slicing glance. “You disappoint me. You asked to have Tannahill on a platter, and I’m giving him to you and you’re backing up.”
    “What do you want out of this?” Rich asked.
    “A bigger slice of the laundry pie.”
    “How much?”
    “Twice as much.”
    Rich looked back at the gold. “Then who gets cut?”
    “Whoever isn’t here.”
    After a moment Rich turned back to Firenze. “Good work, John. When I’ve set things up, I’ll call and someone will pick up the gold. A few hours, no more.”
    “You’re going for it?” Gail asked Rich.
    “I’d be stupid not to. I’ll even get a gold star in my files from the feds on this one. It sure as hell will keep their nose out of my business for a while. They’ll be too busy sticking their nose up Tannahill’s.”
    Gail looked uncertain.
    “What?” Firenze asked her.
    “I think he’s too cagey to get caught by a blind call.”
    “It won’t be blind,” Rich said. He gave Firenze a look that told the other man he had better answer with something more to the point than a friend of a friend. “Who did Cesar get the gold from?”
    Firenze wasn’t stupid. “A bitch named Cherelle Faulkner.”
    “The one who’s tight with Tannahill’s curator?” Rich asked, as though he didn’t already know the players.
    “That’s what my tip said.”
    “Then the message will come from Cherelle.” Rich looked at Gail. “You in?”
    She shrugged. “Yeah, it’s the smart call. But Vegas sure won’t be the same without him.”
    “Who?” Firenze asked.
    “Shane Tannahill.”

Chapter 54
    Las Vegas
    November 5
    Early morning
    S lowly Risa awoke from a dream of lying naked on her stomach at a tropical beach with the taste of the sea on her tongue and surf beating close by. Smiling, she burrowed deeper into the dream . . . and tasted Shane.
    Her eyes flew open.
    “Do you always wake up all at once?” he asked.
    His voice was deep, amused, and he was as naked as she was. What had been sand in the dream was in reality a mat of dark chest hair and warm muscle. What she had thought was surf was the slow, strong beating of his heart beneath her cheek.
    The part about tasting mildly salty was real. Licking her lips, she decided that she enjoyed the taste of him in the morning. Surprise and heat streaked through her; Shane was even sexier to her now than he had been when they fell asleep locked together like a flesh-and-blood puzzle that had just been solved.
    “Never had an alarm clock like you,” she said, nibbling. Tasting. Licking. Enjoying the feel of his erection nudging between her legs. “Or I would have spent a lot of time waking up.”
    His fingers slid down her hips, probed, found liquid silk and woman. With a sound that was both anticipation and pleasure, he lifted her over him and filled her in a slow, thick stroke that made her moan. He kept moving that way, slowly, deeply, and