Rarities Unlimited 02 - Running Scared

destroyed somebody’s very expensive toy.”

Chapter 64
    Las Vegas
    November 5
    Evening
    G ail Silverado, Rich Morrison, and Carl Firenze no longer sat around the table that had been rolled into Gail’s office for dinner. The remains of duck, steak, and shrimp congealed on the abandoned plates. Only Carl had been hungry enough to eat everything he’d ordered. Gail never ate much anyway. Rich had eaten half of his duck, finished his wine, and watched the phone.
    Now all three were drinking coffee in the “conversation” area of Gail’s office. In Rich’s case the coffee came with an extra kick. Gail and Carl were taking their caffeine straight up, no alcohol chaser. Neither of them wanted to be slow or stupid while carrying a million dollars in cash.
    Nobody had much to say. The money had been counted and packed into two suitcases that could have fit in the overhead storage bin of any major airline.
    Everyone was waiting for the call to come through the main desk and get switched to Gail’s private number.
    “Ms. Silverado,” Carl said, setting aside his coffee, “sure I can’t talk you out of this?”
    She jerked, startled out of her own thoughts. Then she sighed and admitted, “I’m thinking about it.”
    “Think harder,” Rich said. “I have been. I don’t like what I’m thinking.”
    “What are you talking about?” Gail said. “You were the one who was so eager to—”
    “I changed my mind. Yes, it would be nice to have you testify against Tannahill as an on-the-spot witness to an illegal act. Icing on the cake, as it were.” Rich shrugged. “So who needs icing? We’ve got his cock in a wringer. No point pushing our luck.”
    Before Gail could answer, the phone rang. She reached for it with a hand that trembled.
    “Yes?” she said.
    “Now, that’s a word I love to hear,” Cherelle said. “You ready to buy some gold toys?”
    Gail looked at the two men. Carl was already on his feet, settling his shoulder holster with an automatic motion of his body.
    “Yes,” Gail said.
    “The Midas Motel. You know where it is?”
    Gail hesitated, swallowed. “Yes.”
    “Room 121. Twenty minutes.”
    The line went dead.
    Gail hung up the receiver and thought about walking out into the night with a million in anonymous bills.
    “Well?” Rich said.
    “Midas Motel, Room 121,” Gail said. She looked at her hands. “I think I’ll have that drink after all.”

Chapter 65
    Las Vegas
    November 5
    Evening
    N obody looked at the telephone.
    Everybody waited for it to ring.
    No one talked about the fact that it was late, getting later, and Cherelle still hadn’t called with instructions.
    The only good news was that Ian, who was watching Gail Silverado with the help of some extra bodies from the Golden Fleece’s security staff, hadn’t called in either. Gail was still at her casino, waiting as they were waiting.
    Niall put the half-glasses on Risa, adjusted them, and judged his handiwork. “You’re going to make a cute little old lady someday.”
    Dana snickered.
    Risa ignored both of them. She was trying not to look at Shane. He hadn’t had a civil word to say to her since he’d walked back into her apartment, found her being fitted for special electronics, and was informed by Dana that Risa was going after the gold.
    Alone.
    It’s the only way we can be sure that a spectacular, and spectacularly meaningful, piece of human culture won’t vanish into an underground black market and never reappear.
    Niall, usually Shane’s ally, had weighed in on Dana’s side. Look, boyo, you’ve already fired Risa, Rarities can front the money if you refuse, and there’s sweet bugger all you can do about it. She’s going alone. Get used to it.
    End of discussion.
    End of conversation, too.
    Risa glanced uneasily in Shane’s direction, wondering just how angry he was beneath his silence. Plenty, if the tightness around his eyes was any sign. And he was walking his gold pen again, jade eyes unfocused, thinking, thinking, thinking.
    That alone made her more nervous than waiting for the phone on the table next to him to ring.
    At the kitchen table Dana was polishing off the last of a meal of lobster, filet mignon, sinfully rich mashed potatoes, bread, buttered vegetables, salad drenched with dressing, and dessert. If Risa hadn’t liked Dana so well, she would have hated her for the turbo-metabolism that allowed the petite woman to eat whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted it, and never put on an