Dirty Deals by Nicole James Page 0,8

I’m high-maintenance?”

“Judging by the car, I’d say yes, but…” He cocks his head to the side, studying me. “You’ve got that easy kind of beauty. The kind that doesn’t take much effort to pull off.”

I think that’s the sweetest compliment I’ve ever received. I blink. “Thank you.”

“Just stating a fact.”

I roll my eyes. The guy’s gotta ruin it.

It’s quiet for a minute, with nothing but the sound of crickets.

I step a little closer, and now I can read the patches on the front of his vest. I nod to them. “So, you’re the President?”

“I am.”

I don’t even know what questions to ask, but I’m very curious.

The sound of a motorcycle carries through the night air, and a minute later there’s a headlight coming up the ramp in the wrong direction. It pulls to the shoulder in front of my car.

The new guy comes over with the requested can, and his president takes it from his hand, shaking it. He squats and attaches the short hose to my tire valve. The tire lifts somewhat and he nods to the prospect. “Check the dash. Should be a tire inflation monitor system. Tell me where this one’s at.”

I glance up at the other guy. His vest is different with less patches. He’s young and appears eager to please. The kid slips in my seat. “You’re down three pounds.”

His president stands.

“The rim’s off the ground, but I’d be careful with it. Drive it a couple miles to allow the tire pressure to increase and the sealant to spread evenly. You should stop and air it up the rest of the way. This is only a quick fix, hundred miles at the most. You’ll need to have the tire repaired as soon as possible.”

I move to lean inside the passenger side door and dig through my bag to pull out a bill to give him for his trouble. I yank one out of the taped stack and glance up to see eyes on me through the driver side. Crap, I shouldn’t have done this.

I slam the door and move around holding the hundred-dollar bill out. “For your trouble. Thank you.”

He glances down at the bill. His eyes shift back to the car, then me. He slowly reaches out to take it.

“No problem.”

He slides the bill between his fingers, noting its crispness. “You just rob a bank?”

“Of course not.”

“You always carry stacks of cash?”

Oh shit, shit, shit. Somehow the money has changed the current in the air. I move quickly to the driver side and slip in, shutting the door and hitting the lock. I fire the car up and it purrs to life. Then I speed off, my heart pounding as I glance in the rearview mirror to see if they’re following me.

They’re not. The men just stand where I left them, staring after me. The ramp is long and curved. I finally get to the end and go through the light. I see a lodging sign for two motels, then a food and gas sign. I bite my lip, my eyes checking the rearview. That biker saw the money, and the last thing I want is for him to roll up at the gas station and decide to rob me. I head for the hotels. I’ll be safer in a room. I can always have someone come and tow the car. Maybe if I’m lucky, there’ll be a Porsche dealer close by. I know at the very least there’s got to be one in Atlanta.

That biker made no move to chase me down, and I’m sure he could have caught me if he’d wanted it badly enough. Him seeing the money has me rattled. It was a stupid move… digging in the bag. If only he hadn’t dipped his head to look at what I was doing. God, I’m such an idiot. I’ve got to be more careful.

CHAPTER FOUR

Rusty—

I stand at the gun counter of the local sporting goods store, wishing I were anywhere else. Reno dragged me in here with him to get a birthday present for his ol’ lady, Kara. I had no idea he meant a pistol. He’s got a little Sig Sauer P238 in his hand, pink camo, no less.

“She’s left-handed,” he tells the sales guy.

“No problem. We can order her the external thumb safety conversion kit.”

Reno nods. “I’ll need that.”

“It’s a good little gun. Light weight, no recoil, and the slide’s easy,” the guy says.

“She’ll love it,” I agree, grinning. “All chicks want a gun.”

“Don’t be a dick. I