Six Killer Bodies (14 page)

Wes grabbed her elbow and smiled at her friends. “Excuse

us. Meg promised to introduce me to someone I need to

talk to.”

She rol ed her eyes, but allowed him to lead her away.

“Did you have to scare my friends to death?”

“They were begging for it,” he muttered.

“You need to work on your social skil s.”

“Jett Logan,” he reminded her. He hated to rush things,

but his left eye was starting to twitch. The Oxy high was

sliding away quickly, and he was hoping to be back at

Chance’s place, trying to sleep through the worst of the

withdrawal. If he could get through the rest of the night

without hitting the Oxy tablets in his pocket, it would be a

smal victory.

“You never really said what you wanted with Jett.”

“No, I didn’t.”

She frowned. “Am I getting in the middle of something?”

“Absolutely not,” he said. “You’re going to point out the

guy, then pretend as if you don’t know me.”

“Gee, I’m so glad this turned out not to be a date,” she

said dryly.

Wes swallowed hard. Once he’d told Coop if he liked

Carlotta, he needed to do something bold. Considering the

hole he’d dug for himself, now seemed like a good time to

fol ow his own advice.

Wesley stopped and walked Meg back a step against the

wall. Then he kissed her. She made a startled noise and

stiffened for a second, then softened as he plied her

mouth with his tongue, and began to kiss him back. Her

lips tasted like Cherry Coke and her tongue was a silk

ribbon. God, if he had this mouth to kiss any time he

wanted, he could be king.

When his lungs threatened to burst, he had to tear his lips

from hers and lift his head.

Meg was breathing as hard as he was. “Why…why did you

kiss me?”

He shrugged, trying to regain his composure. “To give you

something to think about.”

She straightened her clothing. “I’m thinking you shouldn’t

do that again.”

“You kissed me back,” he countered. The realization

buoyed his hope.

“I kiss all my cousins like that.”

He laughed. “Right. Admit it, it was good.”

“It was good,” she said, nodding. “But I’m not looking for a

guy who’s always in trouble.”

“Meg, is this clown bothering you?”

Wes looked up to see the guy he’d once seen out with

Meg standing there. Gay Boyfriend had traded his plaid

shorts for white pants—nice. Wes set his jaw. Clown?

“No,” Meg said quickly. “Mark, this is Wes. You two met at

the Vortex once, I think.”

“Oh, yeah,” Mark said. “You’re the one who rides a ten-

speed.”

Wes returned a little smile. “It’s not the horsepower you

got between your legs, man. It’s what you do with the

gearshift.”

“Uh, Mark, Wes was just leaving,” Meg said, giving Wes a

warning glance. “I need to introduce him to someone first,

then I’l be back.”

“I’ll wait for you here,” Mark said.

This time she grabbed Wes’s elbow and shepherded him

down the hall. “That was uncalled for.”

“Isn’t that dude a little old to be hanging out at frat

parties?”

“Mark is an ATO alumnus. He comes back to chaperone.”

“A convenient cover for pervs.”

“Mark is a successful architect,” Meg said. “He’s going

places.”

“I’m happy for him,” Wes said.

She made a frustrated noise. “God, you can be such a jerk

sometimes.”

“So I’ve been told, by you. Just point out Logan and you

can get back to Marky Mark.”

Her chin came up, but she didn’t respond. Wes swung his

head side to side, hoping to catch a glimpse of his target,

although all he’d seen of Logan was the guy’s back as he’d

flung himself out the second floor window of his dorm.

They walked all through the house, then doubled back.

Finally, Meg nodded across the room. “That’s Jett Logan in

the yel ow-flowered shirt.”

Wes zeroed in on the guy like a laser beam. He had the

same general build as the guy who’d gone out the

window—short and stocky, and sporting a wrapped ankle

that might have been the result of a hard landing. “You’re

sure that’s him?”

“Yeah, that’s Jett. I heard he got kicked out of school and

he’s leaving town. What’s going on?”

“I just want to talk to him,” Wes said, then looked down at

her. “You should go back to your friends.”

Her mouth tightened. “You’re welcome.”

“Thanks,” he said. “For the kiss.”

Meg gave him a wary look, then turned and walked away.

Wes watched her go, nursing a pang. If things went wel

with Logan, maybe he’d find Meg again, stay with her and

walk her home later. Then he lifted his glasses and

massaged the bridge of his nose against the pain

mushrooming there. His hand shook, and the eye twitch

was getting worse. Who was he kidding? Meg had said she

didn’t want a guy who was always in trouble. Somehow he

doubted she’d be wil ing to overlook the drugs, the issue

with his dad, his massive gambling debt, and his

undercover work for a loan shark.

He should just let things end here. If he kept pissing her

off, she was bound to turn him in for prying into the city

databases at work.

Wes positioned himself across the room where he could

watch Logan. Jett was a smug little bul dog who carried

himself like someone who was entitled to the best. From

the rosy glow on the guy’s snub face, he’d already had a

lot to drink, and the beer in the clear cup he held was

down to about an inch. Wes bided his time and shortly, he

saw Logan break away from his group and go in search of,

presumably, a bathroom.

Wes fol owed him to the john, managing to get his foot in

the door, then wedge himself inside. “Jett Logan?”

“Yeah.” The guy stumbled against the opposite wall, hands

up. “What the hel , man? I’m not gay.”

“I’m not, either,” Wesley said. “But I’l settle for happy.

You owe The Carver ten grand. I’m here to col ect.”

Jett’s eyes widened. “I don’t have it.” He gave Wesley the

once-over, as if trying to size up whether he could take

him in a fight.

“Dude, stop wasting time. I got a headache, and you gotta

take a piss. Just pay me and I’m outta here.”

“I’l have it tomorrow,” Jett said, a pathetic attempt at a

bluff.

“Nice try, but The Carver knows you’re leaving town.” Wes

sighed. “Look, man, you can either pay me and walk out of

here with your porcelain veneers intact, or you can take

your chances with my partner, Mouse, who has about a

hundred pounds on me and wil be waiting for you with a

golf club when you leave.”

From his pocket, the red phone vibrated. Wes pul ed it

out. “See, that’s him now. Should I answer and tel him

you’re being an asshole?”

Jett paled. “No. I’l pay.”

“Good decision,” Wes said, stowing the phone.

Jett removed a thick wad of money from a back pocket

and handed it over. “It’s all there.”

Wes counted it, then nodded and shoved it into a deep

pants pocket. “Dude, if you had the money, why didn’t you

just pay up? Most of the guys who owe The Carver are flat

fucking broke.”

Jett sat down on the toilet lid, his head in his hands.

“Because I just won it last night. I was going to another

card game tonight to double it. Then I was going to pay

back The Carver and keep ten for myself.”

Wes pursed his mouth. “What kind of card game?”

“Texas Hold ’Em. There’s a game going on at a house on

the edge of campus, a sure thing.”

“Why do you say that?”

“It’s a dog track, man, with a bunch of trust fund kids.”

Meaning the players were all novices who would bet

without regard. Easy pickings.

“You play?” Jett asked.

“Some,” Wesley hedged.

“Someone should go,” the guy said, gesturing to the door.

“It’s all yours if you want it.” He rattled off the address.

Wes hesitated a split second, then said, “No, thanks,” and

left the bathroom, his head throbbing like a bass drum.

On the way outside, he looked for Meg and spotted her

talking to Mark. They seemed absorbed in each other. He

was probably the kind of guy Meg was looking for. Anger

coursed through Wesley that things came easy for jerks

like Mark. He probably came from family money and used

it to catapult himself to success.

One of these days, Wes told himself…

His mind went back to the card game just a few blocks

away. He imagined the newbies sitting around a table,

with the rank of winning hands printed on an index card as

a cheat sheet. A warm sensation swirled in his stomach

and chest—a chance like this didn’t come around very

often. He’d be crazy not to relieve al those rich col ege

boys of their daddies’ money.

But he’d promised Carlotta he’d stop gambling. Besides,

he didn’t have any money.

You have ten grand in your pocket, his mind whispered. He

could take a portion of the money and double it. Then he’d

give Mouse the ten grand Logan owed The Carver, and

keep the rest for himself. A cake walk.

He gave Meg one last glance, then left the house, his heart

thumping in anticipation. The last time he’d played, he’d

won big, had taken first place in a tournament and split

the earnings with Chance. But this time, he could keep all

of his winnings, and maybe replace the money that

Michael Lane had stolen out of his sock drawer. Carlotta

would be so happy to have some extra cash to fix up the

townhouse.

The address where the game was being played was a short

bike ride away. Wes told himself that he’d simply cruise by

and check it out. When he arrived, he told the guy who

answered the door that Jett had sent him and he was

welcomed into the group. Within a few minutes, he’d sized

up the crowd to be just as inexperienced as Logan had

suggested.

Only one thing was missing.

In his last card game, he’d been high on Oxy. It had given

him a single-minded confidence he’d never known before.

Even better, the cards had sailed his way, as if he were

calling to them. And he had to get rid of this headache

before the cards hit the table.

Before he sat down, he furtively popped a whole Oxy

tablet into his mouth, then chewed, nearly groaning with

ecstasy as sensations flooded his pleasure centers. When

the first hand was dealt, he picked up his pocket cards, and

smiled inwardly at the aces winking back.

It was an auspicious beginning to a tragic evening.

Any good pocket cards he got were fol owed up with ugly

community cards. His pair of aces was shot down with

three deuces. The idiots at the table didn’t know how to

bet, which screwed up the pot and messed with his

momentum. His irritation led him to make stupid mistakes,

like seeing hearts where there were diamonds, kings

where there were jacks.

Halfway through the game he was losing money and

concentration, so he chewed another hit of Oxy. But

instead of returning his pleasant, happy high and laser

focus, the dose slowed him down. Everything seemed

gluey and distorted. The cards felt thick and unwieldy in

his hands. He had problems keeping up with the bets, and

couldn’t recal if a flush beat a straight. Because he

misread tel s—body language from other players that

hinted at the strength of their hand—he wound up

bluffing when he shouldn’t, and holding when he

should’ve folded. He played like a rube.

And in under two hours, he lost it all.

When Wesley saw the last of The Carver’s money being

raked away by some schmuck named Baron wearing a

Rolex, he panicked. He’d just lost ten thousand dol ars that

belonged to a man who’d earned a reputation by cutting

people into pieces. He pushed to his feet and stumbled out

of the house where he threw up in the bushes.

He sat down on the ground in the shadows of the house

and tried to breathe. His mind chugged, desperately

searching for a way out. Then he brightened—he could

borrow the money from Chance. He dug out his main cel

phone while staring at the screen of the dedicated phone

that Mouse had given him. Damn, the big man had called

three times.

Wes clumsily punched in Chance’s number and prayed

while the phone rang. “Come on…come on,” he pleaded,

but Chance didn’t answer. Probably banging Hannah.

Wes cursed and held his heavy head in his hands, trying to

think. The red phone vibrated, the screen flashing

insistently. Wesley groaned and started to press “decline.”

Then he stopped. Something was working hard to push

through the fog in his brain. Finally the thought slid into

place.

Mouse didn’t know he’d col ected the money. Jett was on

his way out of town. All he had to do was pretend he

hadn’t found the guy. The Carver would be upset, but that

was better than admitting he’d lost the man’s money in a

damn card game.

With his mind made up, he connected the call. “Yeah,

Mouse?”

“Where you been?”

“Looking for Logan, man. He’s Mr. Invisible. I’ve been all