Rarities Unlimited 02 - Running Scared

breakfast.”
    Cherelle licked Tim’s lips, gave him a slow stroke, and whispered huskily, “Wanna?”
    “You ever know me when I didn’t?”
    “Nope.” It made up for a lot, including his lack of brains . . . most of the time. With a final measured squeeze, she stepped back. “Soon as we unload Socks, I’m gonna suck you dry.”
    “Uh, he’s coming to Vegas with us.”
    She wasn’t surprised. She wasn’t happy either. Eyes narrowed, she crossed her arms under her breasts. “You told him.”
    Tim shuffled from one foot to the other. Then he shrugged. “Hell, he’s my buddy.”
    Sometimes Cherelle wondered just how close a buddy good old Socks was, but she didn’t push it. Men as beautiful as Tim often were switch-hitters. The good news was that he had never been too used up to take her on, so maybe it was just the jailhouse thing with Socks, like fraternity boys or soldiers bonding because they all ate the same shit to get where they were.
    “He wasn’t with us last night,” she said.
    “We still owe him for the blow.”
    She let out a hissing breath and thought fast. Cocaine was the major reason she put up with Socks. He never seemed to have any trouble getting it, and he didn’t charge them an arm and a leg. “He’ll get paid. He always does.”
    Socks stuck his head out of the motel room. “Hey, I thought you said you had something good to show me.”
    “In your dreams,” Cherelle muttered, but she started toward the room. It would be just like Socks to yell questions about stolen gold across the parking lot. Tim had his faults in the brain department, but Socks could be severely stupid. If he hadn’t been connected, someone would have whacked him long ago.
    “You coming?” Socks asked impatiently.
    “You asking about our sex life?” Cherelle retorted.
    “Huh?”
    “Nothing,” Tim said. “She’s just being cute.”
    With a muttered word, Cherelle left Tim behind and stalked into the motel room. She lifted covered coffee cups until she found the only one that was still full. She took a sip and almost spit it all over Socks. No sugar, no cream, and he damn well knew how she liked it. Just because he and Tim drank theirs straight up didn’t mean that she had to.
    “So where is it?” Socks said. “Tim wants more blow, and I ain’t doing nothing until I’m paid for the last time.”
    “In the box.” She pointed toward the wooden carton that sat on the floor next to the rumpled bed.
    Socks nudged it with his foot. “That all? Tim said there were three boxes.”
    “They weren’t nearly full, so I put it together. One’s easier to carry than three.”
    “Huh.” Socks looked dubiously at the box. “Don’t look like much from here.”
    Tim sauntered into the room and stuffed a doughnut into his mouth. He didn’t know what was going to happen, but he knew it would be entertaining. He loved watching Cherelle rip someone a new asshole—as long as that someone wasn’t him. As for the gold, whether she had it or Socks had it, Tim would get his share.
    “How full is not full?” Socks asked.
    “How full is not full?” she mocked. “Man, we have a fucking philosopher here.”
    “Huh?” Socks frowned.
    So did Tim.
    Times like this, she really missed Risa. The two of them used to fall on the ground laughing about things no one else was smart enough to get.
    “Look,” Cherelle said, pointing toward the box. “That’s Tim’s half.”
    Socks opened the box and started to dump it on the floor.
    “Wait!” she shrieked. What a jerk-off . “You bang that stuff around, it won’t be worth as much, so don’t come whining to me about how Tim’s half isn’t worth what mine is worth.”
    Tim headed off an argument by taking the box and unpacking its contents one at a time on the bed. Twelve pieces. A couple of armbands, some little statues, a neckring, some pins with red in their designs, a woman’s ring. It might have been half of the haul, but she hadn’t let him touch the boxes she carried, so he couldn’t be sure. Besides, it really didn’t matter. Whatever she had, sooner or later he had. Even at her bitchiest, she couldn’t wait to get her hands on his joystick.
    “Weird junk.” Socks eyed the pieces. “Gold?”
    “Yeah,” Tim said.
    “You sure?”
    Tim looked at Cherelle, who nodded curtly. He turned back to Socks. “If she’s sure, I’m sure. It’s gold.”
    “How do you know?” Socks asked her.
    “I know a lot of things.”
    Socks couldn’t