Page 23 of King of Pain

“I’d love a truck like this but the money…” I click my tongue. “I just don’t have it, Clyde.”

He looks me up and down and nods. “How much you think you could spare?”

I shake my head. We’re starting this negotiation from zero.

Clyde takes the bait. “Look. Just give me enough to take Alice out to dinner. Nothing fancy. I tried to give the damn thing to my brother, and he wouldn’t take it.”

“I appreciate what you’re saying Clyde, but…” I shake my head a few times. “I’m a little hard up.” I’m being a dick. But I don’t know how long Kate and I are going to have to live off what I’ve got.

He leans in close. “It pisses her off sitting in the yard. It makes her even madder when we drive it anywhere.” He goes around to the glove box and takes out a title. “I’ll let you have it if I can tell Alice you paid me.”

I give him a wicked grin. “You got it, Clyde. It’s a deal.” And then we shake again.

His name is on the title, and I make a note to send Clyde a big thank you later. Pocketing the title—who leaves that shit in the car, Clyde—I head down the street to a tiny automotive store and grab spark plugs and oil.

Then, the coffee shop, for two black coffees.

I’m giddy as I head back to the truck. This is my jam. Hood is still open, and I pull out the plugs, blowing on them, and top off the oil.

I’ve decided to name her Alice and I’m thinking that this might be the luckiest day ever.

I got laid, I’ve got a pretty lady looking at me with big brown eyes begging me to stay, and now I’ve got a truck. And coffee.

That’s when I catch a flash of red out of the corner of my eye.

I turn and catch a fucking GT3 heading toward Walmart.

Fuck. No one around here owns a car like that. It came from Vegas. No doubt.

Turning over the engine, Alice fires up, a deep rumble that should be satisfying but isn’t, and I put her into gear, backing out of the spot. I’m really hoping that Clyde has already left and the real Alice is not witnessing me pulling the free truck out.

Because if she is, Clyde is not getting any for a while. But I can’t worry about my man now.

Instead, I follow the GT3. Maybe I should just go back to the motel, but I need to see how bad this is. If one of the Italians found me here, they are watching closely and they are on the hunt.

I’m the lynchpin to their plan. I know it. They want to use me to gain access to the tunnel.

I could turn myself back over to them. That would honestly be best for Kate. Vincent would likely forget all about her. But my family…

Getting caught is the worst that can happen. These assholes would use me to blackmail Kincaid Enterprises. I know that was the plan. The very least I can do is stay out of the way, keep Gorilla distracted.

It would be even better if I could find a way to push those permits through. But I have to trust that Mason is on top of that shit.

I could disappear on my own. They’d follow me, not her. But it’s way easier to stay under the radar with a girl on my arm. We’re on a couple’s getaway. I’m using her and I know it, but she’s the one who begged me not to leave her.

I should cut her loose, I know it deep in my gut. But part of me isn’t ready to let her go, and like I said, I’m giving her what she asked for. Why should I feel guilty for that?

I don’t even make it all the way to Walmart when I see the squad car lights flashing blue.

Popping open a compartment on the dash of the truck, I find a beat-up pair of aviator sunglasses and I put them on, ducking low in the seat.

The GT3 pulls up next to the cop car and out pops Gorilla. Asshole.

I don’t know how he got out of the cord I tied him up in, or how he found me, maybe the Fit had a GPS tracker, but I know it’s time to get the hell out of Dodge. Or whatever town we’re in.

At the next light I make a right and then another and a third until I’ve reversed direction.

Pulling into the motel, I take a deep breath. I should tell Kate to go back to Vegas. Stay with a friend. Lay low…

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