Rarities Unlimited 02 - Running Scared

eyes and discovered what many another player had—Shane Tannahill didn’t give away anything he didn’t want to. She could pick up the cards he dealt or she could get out of the game.
    With a hissing curse, she turned on her four-inch platform shoes and swung her hips hard all the way to the back of the Bronco. She yanked open the cargo door, reached inside, and unzipped the lid of a small suitcase.
    “Okay, big man,” she said. “Drag ass over here and take a look.”
    None of Shane’s relief showed as he slowly straightened and reached into his pocket for exam gloves. He hadn’t expected the woman to be so stubborn about not showing the artifacts; it had made him wonder if this might be some kind of scam after all. If it hadn’t been for the prickling along his nerves that reminded him of a dead man’s gold, he would have been long gone from the parking lot.
    He wondered if the cops had found Virgil’s body yet. If so, it hadn’t made the Vegas news. But then, there was no reason it should. Lots of old folks died every day. Some of them were murdered. There probably hadn’t been enough left of the corpse to determine yet if Virgil had died on his own or had a big shove off into the night.
    “You coming?” she asked.
    Casually Shane snapped the gloves into place, walked the few steps to the back of the Bronco, and glanced into the open cargo door.
    Gold glowed against red velvet as though lit from within.
    The woman started to move closer.
    Shane stepped away. “Give me room. Or do you really think I’m going to grab and run?”
    The woman hesitated before she backed up a few steps. Her glance moved restlessly over the parking lot before darting back to him.
    He shifted position so he could keep an eye on her as well as the gold. He was vulnerable to attack while he examined the gold, but his greatest danger was when she saw the money. If she had any confederates parked around the lot, that was when they would act.
    Though everything in Shane yearned to savor the artifacts like a fine, rare wine, he held each piece for only a few moments. The torc was magnificent, heavy, shimmering with power. Two brooches, each as extraordinary as the one he’d purchased from Smith-White. Each with a current of power. The figurines were obviously part of a fertility ritual. A golden phallus and an impressively potent bull.
    And a ring like the one he wore.
    He knew it would fit on Risa’s hand. Perfectly. It was all he could do to put the ring down.
    Fingers tingling, Shane zipped up the suitcase and moved back. “Where did you get these?”
    She laughed derisively. “Where do you think?”
    “I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking.”
    “Cherelle had them. She sold them to me. I’m selling them to you. You want paperwork, you don’t buy shit in parking lots.”
    Without a word Shane went to his own car, unlocked the trunk, and opened his own suitcase. Bundles of used hundred-dollar bills filled it. He gestured to the woman and backed up to give her room.
    She bent over and riffled through five bundles at random in the manner of someone who is used to judging stacks of money. Then she closed the suitcase, picked it up, and turned to him.
    “Looks good to me,” she said, and headed for her vehicle.
    Shane took her suitcase out of the Bronco and laid it in his open trunk.
    As he closed the lid, the woman grabbed a gun from the side pocket of the Bronco’s door. When she spun toward him, the sun flashed on a very modern kind of gold.
    “FBI, Tannahill,” she said, showing him her shield. “You’re under arrest for receiving stolen property.”

Chapter 58
    Las Vegas
    November 5
    Afternoon
    C herelle had gnawed at her mouth until beer stung like iodine whenever she took a drink. Crumpled cans lay in front of the TV, losers in a drinker’s demolition derby. No matter how many empties she threw at the screen, the newsreaders still kept silent on the subject of the apprehension of Cesar “Socks” Firenze Marquez.
    She hesitated, scowled at Gail Silverado’s number, and decided Socks must have headed out of town. Even if he hadn’t, he was too dumb to find a smart one like her. All she had to do was swap the gold for money, shake the dust of this losing city forever, and find a new place where mirrors didn’t show her something out of a freak show.
    It took ten minutes and five levels of assistants, but she finally got through to the big lady herself.
    “Ms. Silverado, I’m told you like buying