Rarities Unlimited 02 - Running Scared

apartment. The door started to close automatically, only to hang up on the shoes and jacket she had dropped when he grabbed her.
    “Where is it?” the man demanded through the opening in his black ski mask.
    “Where is what?”
    Socks glared at the pale lady with the big blue eyes and trembling lips. What did she think he was, stupid? “The gold,” he snarled. “Where’s the fucking gold!”
    “I think you’ve mixed me up with someone else. The only gold I know about is locked in the casino’s safe along with—”
    Fingers closed like steel cables around her wrist. “The gold she got from that geezer in Sedona.”
    Risa wanted to think she was in the grip of a madman wearing surgeon’s gloves and a ski mask. She had a sickening, spreading fear that he wasn’t crazy. He was mad, period, as in furious. “Look, I’ll be glad to help you find whatever you lost—”
    “The bitch stole it,” Socks cut in. “I didn’t lose it. What kind of dumb fuck loses millions in gold?”
    “Which bitch?” Risa asked, and prayed she was wrong.
    “Cherelle Faulkner, who else? You know any other dumb bitches that live here?”
    Just me, Risa thought bitterly.
    “So where is it?” he demanded.
    “If you could describe what she took,” Risa said with aching control, “I might be able to help you.”
    Socks looked the offer over from all sides, searching for hidden traps. While he was at it, he looked his captive over, too. She was worth the effort. Classy but not a stick. Really nice tits under that loose shirt. Hard to tell about the ass under her straight dark skirt, but it showed promise. Too bad his dick wasn’t up to that kind of workout yet.
    Risa didn’t like the greasy, dark-eyed appraisal. She had seen it in too many men’s eyes once she grew breasts. But none of her fear or disgust showed. That was another thing she had learned as a kid. Show emotion, especially fear, and you’re dead meat.
    “Are you Cherelle’s man?” Risa asked, trying to get his eyes back up above her collarbone.
    Anger and something a lot darker tightened his mouth. “I coulda been, but the bitch stole my gold.”
    Risa wondered if that had been before or after he had swiped Cherelle’s key to the Golden Fleece’s secure apartments, and what had happened to Cherelle and her new key in the meantime. But those were questions Risa wasn’t going to ask.
    She might not like the answers.
    But no matter where Cherelle was now and in what condition, Risa couldn’t help anyone until she got free of this jerk in the explosive Hawaiian shirt and scary ski mask. Gently, very gently, she tested the man’s grip on her wrist. Not as tight as it had been. The fact that cold sweat was slicking her skin helped.
    “What kind of gold?” she asked. “Coins? Jewelry? Watches?”
    “I didn’t see all of it.”
    Risa didn’t point out that if he hadn’t seen the gold, how could it be his? Her captor might not have been particularly bright, but he was plenty strong.
    Just like the old days, Risa thought savagely. My brains against their brawn.
    “Can you describe what you did see of the gold?” she asked, letting a subtle whine creep into her voice. “I really want to help you, mister, but I can’t unless you tell me what you’re looking for.”
    Socks frowned. “Well, there was two little statues that looked like a dog or a buck or something. Then some freaky kind of pin. And an armband that was pretty cool. Looked kind of like a skull. The other stuff must have been the same.”
    Risa’s stomach turned over, then clenched. It couldn’t be a coincidence.
    And it sure explained why Cherelle had been interested in Risa’s work for the first time in memory.
    “Cherelle stole those from you?” Risa asked.
    “Yeah, and a bunch of others.”
    “A bunch,” Risa said neutrally, yet her head was spinning. Jesus, Joseph, and Mary. There are more Celtic artifacts.
    The thought was staggering, but she was careful not to show it. Instead, she let her voice and her words slide backward into the time when she and Cherelle prowled their rural world like healthy young animals, a time when men like this one were all too common in the girls’ lives.
    “So . . . a bunch,” she said. “Is that a big ol’ bunch or just-a-few-more-than-four kind of bunch?”
    Brawny fingers tightened on her wrist again. “What do you care how many?”
    “Jeez, I’m just trying to help. If it’s one or two, then she might have left them in the powder