Run For the Money (7 page)

“No, sister. It’s okay. I really just need to rest.” The timer on Slick’s choirboy routine was running out.

“If you purge your soul of what is ailing you I’m sure you will sleep better.”

“Listen, sister, the priests are why I stopped going to mass. I wanted my dick sucked by a girl, not Father Flanagan. So, if you don’t mind, will you fuck off back to your hair shirt and crucifixes and let me sleep?”

She held it together. She breathed deep. “My son—”

That did it. Slick punched her in the face. The top of her habit flew off, revealing gray hair. As she fell, her head hit hard on the pew and then again on the marble floor when she landed. Saved him having to hit her twice, or pull the gun.

A quick recon of the sanctuary turned up enough ropes and curtain ties to wrap her up well and gag her mouth. It took little effort to lift her into the confessional and leave her there to sleep it off.

He couldn’t hold it any more. He stepped into the other side of the confessional, not sure if he was in the priest’s seat or not. He dropped his pants and let loose a noisy mess of roiled up bowels over the seat, wiped his ass with the burgundy velvet curtain, stopped off to wash his hands in the holy water and went back to his pew.

When Slick finally closed his eyes he was beyond tired. He slept the sleep of a righteous man.

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A
s Emma stood over her stove she thought how much she loved the smell of bacon, but how much she was going to love the smell of $642,000 even more.

With Slick on the run it was time to accelerate her plans. Rather than a stop off at the money for nothing but plane fare she would need to liberate the whole take, make for Miami sooner than she wanted.

After breakfast she cracked open her door and peeked out on Delmer patrol. No signs. She moved quickly up the steps from the basement apartment.

As she crested the top step, Delmer’s door opened. Watching at the peep hole again. Giant man-child had the patience of a retarded Golden Retriever.

“Where you going Emma?”

“Out, Delmer.”

“You coming back?”

“Yes, Delmer. Like always.”

The important thing – don’t stop. Keep on moving and you’ll get away. He won’t follow outside. He never goes outside, not without Momma.

Out the front door into the freedom of the morning. All of the outdoors felt like it was under a wet blanket. The sky was grey, the ground still soaked, wind played through the trees. Night-crawlers were holding an orgy on the sidewalks. The sky threatened, but the storm had passed.

Emma turned left and saw MacKaye’s car before she saw him.

He leaned on a boat parked in the neighbor’s driveway. A boat that saw more water the night before than it had in the six years since it first parked next door in permanent dry dock.

“Buy you a cup of coffee?” MacKaye asked.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Watching you. What are you doing?”

“Running errands. Is that illegal?”

“Not at all. Let me help. I have a car right over here. Don’t even have to pay for gas. Tax dollars. Ain’t it great?”

“Good for you, but I’ll pass.” She kept walking. He walked with her.

“You going to meet someone? An old acquaintance perhaps?”

Emma stopped. She spun. She huffed. The overstuffed purse on her arm banged against her body.

“Look MacKaye, what is it you want from me?”

“Told you. I’m looking for Slick.”

“And I told you he’s not here.”

“So where are you going?”

“Oh my God! Can’t a girl go to the store for milk without getting hassled by the cops?”

“You’re not going to the store for milk.”

“Fine, I need coffee filters too.”

He gave her one of his rakishly charming grins. It worked. “Emma, look, I know you want to protect him. I don’t exactly know why, but I get it, you do. But a man like Slick doesn’t break out of a prison van and go away to live in the desert under a rock. Not without stopping off and getting his money. A guy like that – that face, his record – I figure he wants to pin you down. Put a ring on it, as the ladies say. No way a sideshow freak like that is gonna let a good looking woman like you get away. So when he does dig up the money, my bet is he’ll stop by here next to pick you up. I’d like to be here when that happens.”

“Concerned for my safety around an escaped criminal?”

“Honey, I’d turn in my badge if it meant you never had to sleep with that nasty caveman again. You deserve better.”

Emma thrust out a hip to the side. “Do they train you in this kind of bullshit or does it come naturally?”

“It flows out of me like a mighty river.” He smiled at her, she got weak in the knees. Something about her appealed to MacKaye. Granted, he wasn’t the most discerning judge of beauty. He loved little eccentric quirks like her crooked teeth. They were sexy to him. Plus, he knew from experience, the girls who had to work a little harder were always much better in bed. And at the end of the day, he loved the game. It’s why he became a cop – for the chase.

“What do I have to do to get you to leave me alone?” She let a tiny grin escape her lips.

“Six hundred grand.”

A full smile broke out. “Okay, what else?”

“Sleep with me.”

Genuine shock crossed over her face. “What?”

“Make love to me. Right now. Let’s do it.”

“And you’ll stop coming around? You’ll believe me I don’t know where he is?”

“Yep.”

She thought about it, but not for long. “Okay.”

She turned and walked back to her basement room with Detective MacKaye in tow.

As she locked the door behind them, Emma kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. Sure as shit he was going to nail her for solicitation, even though he was the one who asked for sex. No money changed hands so it wasn’t prostitution anyway.

She’d never done a favorfuck™ with a guy she actually wanted to sleep with.

MacKaye was all business. He started to strip and dropped his jacket on the floor. He pulled her close and mashed a kiss on her mouth with a deep probing tongue running across the uneven landscape of her teeth. She gave in to it. She lost the nerves and got as horny as she’d ever been.

They clawed at each other’s clothes. In no time they were naked and he pushed her back against the tiny table in the kitchenette. The chrome legs scraped against the concrete floor as her ass hit the peeling green top. A salt shaker rolled over and fell to the floor.

MacKaye pulled his face back from her long enough to take in her body, her full breasts, better than he imagined. She looked down and admired his erection. Not Slick-sized, but she knew it was going to be good.

MacKaye pushed forward again and she reached down between her legs to guide him in. She gasped like a porn actress when he slid inside, easily running the length of his dick into her.

The table legs continued to scrape, Emma’s volume rose with each thrust. Her eyes were open, but unfocused on the ceiling, unaware of Delmer perched at his tiny hole in the floor.

Delmer lay flat on the wood of his bedroom floor directly over her bed. He could hear the noises, knew what was taking place, but couldn’t see a damn thing. His dick in his hand wouldn’t get hard on merely sounds. He cursed to himself.

MacKaye pulled out, expertly flipped her over and bent her forward, entering from behind. Another thirty-seconds of vigorous thrusting and it was over.

Emma could have gone for an hour, but she was grateful to MacKaye for hitting restart on her system. A fuck like that really cleared out the pipes. She stayed still trying to hold him inside her for as long as she could.

He pulled out, grabbed a napkin from the table and cleaned himself off. Emma slid into a chair before she passed out.

“Wow,” she said.

“Yeah.”

She watched him carefully as he dressed. His cop body was toned and well cared for and watching his muscles move in the simple act of putting on a shirt got her wet all over again. After so long being with dangerous guys she neglected the thrill of being with the most dangerous kind – a cop. He had the power. He could send her away. He could cuff her. Do anything he wanted to her.

She had to shake her head to get the thoughts to stop coming. He was fully dressed so any thoughts of a second round were dead.

“I’ll see you around, Emma.”

“I hope so.”

He left, taking a last admiring look at her naked body as he closed the door.

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B
o woke up when the shovel hit the floor next to his head.

He had every intention of sleeping on the couch, but after the second bong load the night before, he’d slumped over and fell asleep on the floor. Mandy tossed a blanket over him and went upstairs with Steve to fuck, not thinking a lick about her dead father.

The room still smelled like pot. Steve’s eyes were bloodshot and saggy. Mandy was wide awake. Bo wondered if she hadn’t hit a little something to pick her up.

The shovel would be for digging up the yard to find Mandy's mom, at least that was the plan they talked about last night. Now it might do double duty to plant her dad in the empty hole once they found the old lady. They'd tossed Dad's body out onto the porch last night, before they lit the first bong load. They let him soak in the rain until he grew bloated and grey like a newspaper left on the porch in a storm.

Bo alternated rubbing his hands across the raw marks on his wrists from his handcuffs. The marks on his ankles itched like hell.

“Can we get some cereal first?” asked Steve.

“Go ahead. I’m gonna start,” said Mandy.

Bo braced for the inevitable; asking him to help drag the waterlogged body back to the tree line behind the house. The ground would still be soggy, though he couldn’t hear rain falling anymore. The body would smell.

“What’s the rush?” asked Steve.

“I’ve waited six years to find my mom. I know she’s back there somewhere. I dig her up and then I can get the cops to come over and bust his ass.”

Come over and bust a corpse?
Bo wondered, but he shook it off. This girl had daddy issues like he’d never seen before. “Mind if I grab a shower?” he asked.

“Go ahead,” said Mandy. “You want to wake and bake?”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Bo stretched and his back cracked in loud pops. Steve cringed, thinking of the gunshots from the night before. He was a timid mouse among two cold-blooded pythons. The whole time Mandy screamed for him to fuck her harder he couldn’t forget that her father’s corpse was sponging up rain out on the porch or the fact they hadn’t showered after they moved the dead body. Mandy had never come so hard or so often.

She packed the bong for Bo and told him where to find the cereal.

“You sure do have some hospitality around here,” Bo said.

“You’re the one who came in to save me. Talk about the kindness of strangers.”

“Hey, Steve was there too.”

“Yeah. But you stood up to my dad. I’ll never forget that, Joe.”

“It’s Bo.”

“Right. Bo.” She stood. “Well, off to dig up my mother.”

Bo let the shower run hot and long. Feeling mellow and good he let his thoughts drift to the money. Slick would be after it. Bo knew he should let it go. He did fuck up and get caught. And yes, he did rat out Slick without so much as an arm twist from the cops, but he still did the job and now he faced a life on the run, the same as Slick. Surely he deserved his cut to help him get by until he could start over.

After his shower Bo scoped out the medicine cabinets. Nothing. Not even an expired Tylenol. Five blue Viagra pills were the most interesting things in the place. This day and age who didn’t have at least some Zoloft sitting around?

He ran through the dad’s closet and found a pair of jeans that fit well with a tightly cinched belt and a plaid flannel shirt that wasn’t hideous. The shoes didn’t fit so he had to hope his stolen pair from last night had dried.

When he got downstairs Steve stood by the French doors watching Mandy dig muddy holes in the back yard. Bo assumed it was Steve who had pulled the cover off the grill and draped it over the body.

“So . . .,” Bo started. Steve didn’t turn. “. . . I’m gonna be heading out.”

“Thanks, man. Seriously.” Steve turned to face Bo. “I would have just run home. She would have gotten a hell of a beating. You might have saved her life.”

“Aw, bullshit. We did what was right.” He nodded to Mandy. “You think she’s gonna find anything?”

“No. Her dad might have killed her mom but he isn’t dumb enough to bury her out back. He’d have taken her somewhere far away. Mandy gets something in her mind though, kinda hard to shake her of it.”

“I know what you mean.” They watched her dig. She stomped on the shovel with her foot to lift heavy, water-logged clumps of yard and toss them aside. She dug with no rhyme or reason, random gopher holes every five or six feet. Bo could see her lips moving, talking to herself.

“Hey, you never know,” Bo said. “Maybe she’ll find buried treasure.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

“Take it easy, man.”

“You too.”

Bo stopped by the front door and lifted a dark green J. Crew jacket off a hook. The kind of coat made for working outdoors and owned by people who never did. He held it up to Steve. “Do you mind?”

“No, take it. It was her dad’s.”

“Thanks.” It fit one size too large, but it would keep him warm.

“So where you headed?”

“Off to find my own treasure.”

Steve smiled. Bo walked out the front door.

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T
he Priest moved slowly and with routine. His morning ritual that had gone unobserved by anyone for years was now being spied on by Slick peering through a gap between two pews. The Priest’s white hair and slow movements showed his age and the serenity of faith.

The Priest set out items on the altar Slick couldn’t see. His soft-soled shoes padded quietly on the marble floors and occasionally squeaked when he turned. He said prayers aloud, but quiet. Slick heard snippets of Latin.

Then the Priest cut a fart. Hey, when you think you’re alone . . .