$200 and a Cadillac - By Fingers Murphy Page 0,95

really Hank, is it?”

Hank grinned at her and then turned back to watch the road. The car floated along on its worn out shocks. He was going almost a hundred now. No governor on this baby. His eyes flickered up at the rearview mirror and saw the police Suburban barreling down on them from behind. Hank took his foot off the gas and let the car start coasting. He didn’t want the brake lights to tip the sheriff off. They couldn’t afford any delays now.

“Well, I guess you don’t have to tell me your real name,” Janie went on. “But I never thought you looked like a Hank anyway. You look Italian. Probably named something like Vinnie or Paulie or something. Something out of the Godfather.”

Hank smiled. “Vinnie was my brother.” Then he turned to her. “But I’m Hank.”

She laughed. “Yeah, sure you are.” Then her voice went serious. “Maybe if we survive this, you can tell me your real name.”

“What are you talking about? If we survive this? Everything’s going to be fine. Lugano has no idea anyone’s on to him. There’s nothing to worry about.” It was a lie, but Hank sold it to her well. There was plenty to worry about and he was running through it in his mind.

What should have been a clean, simple hit in the back of the head in Lugano’s living room had turned into something far more complicated, all because Janie decided to swing by Ron’s place and wait for him to come back from his rendezvous so she could collect her share of the money. When he asked her what she was doing there she responded like she hadn’t really given it much thought. “I grew up here,” she said. “After Ron and I started dating, I kind of started thinking of it as my own house again. So I came by early.”

And because of that, now Hank was going to have to deal with a strange location, other people and a situation where Lugano was likely to be on alert. Hank had considered staying at the house and waiting for Lugano even after Janie showed up. What did he care about Janie’s brother? He needed to get his work done and get away from Nickelback as soon as he could. But now Janie knew, and she wasn’t going to wait around. She could tell Lugano—although he doubted she would—more likely though, she’d just fuck everything up and Lugano would catch on. With fifty grand in cash, a guy like Lugano could disappear and make himself very hard to find. So now it was out to some warehouse in the middle of this godforsaken desert. Hank couldn’t wait to get this over with and get back to the city.

The Suburban came up behind them, changed lanes, and blew past them like they were standing still. Hank watched it pull away from them and guessed it was going one-twenty, maybe even faster. “Where the hell is he going in such a hurry?”

“The only thing down this road is Monarch.” Janie watched the back of the Suburban grow smaller as it sped into the distance. The sight of the police sent a nervous ripple through her stomach and she stared back out at the desert. “God,” she said, “I just can’t believe this.”

“How did this happen?” Hank glanced over at her. “How did you and your brother end up getting involved in this?” She had given him the basics—which he accepted, after all, he was used to people being involved in criminal enterprises and there were very few things that surprised him anymore—but she never really explained how the ball got rolling.

“I don’t know,” she began. Then she said, “I guess I was just looking for a way out. I wanted to make some money and there didn’t seem to be any risk.” She turned to him and spoke with the pleading quality in her voice again. “I wasn’t really doing anything. I just helped think it up and put everyone in touch.”

Janie told him to slow down, that the turn was coming up. Hank slowed the car to a stop and took a right onto a gravel road that went straight out into the desert, rolling with the terrain, until it dropped out of sight in the distance. Hank drove in silence, waiting for her to continue.

But when she didn’t, he asked, “But didn’t you think Lugano seemed a little too—I don’t know—a little too much like a criminal? A little

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