Golden Trail
Page 84
Then Stew kicked him again, this time in the spine, turned, jerked his head at his crew and they all disappeared.
Layne tensed to move toward the guy but Ryker curled a meaty hand around Layne’s shoulder.
“Focus, bro,” he whispered. “Tonight you’re a hero for your boys, not this guy. Let’s go. Baranski’s not done.”
Layne clenched his jaw, knowing Ryker was right. It would be the right thing to do but being seen would also jeopardize the mission. People talked even if you told them to keep their traps shut. He didn’t need his and Ryker’s attendance at the festivities getting out.
Though Ryker was right and Layne was pissed about it, he still moved through the shadows with Ryker to the Suburban. Once they were in the cab, they still had eyes on the guy and Layne waited with Ryker, both of them silent, until the guy crawled to his feet, arm wrapped around his ribs, bent nearly double with his other hand at his thigh, blood oozing between his fingers, and he scuttled into the night dragging his bad leg.
When they lost sight of him, Ryker muttered, “Bet that dipshit lost the urge to visit the track anytime soon.”
Layne turned to Ryker, not in the mood for a breakdown. “Stew has another collection?”
Ryker shook his head, Layne felt his eyes on him in the dark and he didn’t get a good feeling when he saw the white of Ryker’s smile. “Nope. After he’s done a job, he gets horny.”
“Come again?” Layne asked.
“Your ex ain’t gonna like those photos you just took but he’s got her hooked deep and he knows it. You wanna be certain to get a woman to set a man out, you show her pictures of that man porkin’ another woman. Even Baranski isn’t stupid enough for you to show him those kind of shots and not know his time in Big Momma’s House o’ the Free Ride is up.”
This just got worse and worse.
Jesus.
“You know where he’ll be?” Layne asked but he knew Ryker knew.
“Yeah,” Ryker sounded like he was laughing. “Sorry bro, ‘bout to show you the only thing that’ll put you off that piece you got waitin’ for you at home.”
“Great,” Layne muttered and started the SUV through Ryker’s chuckle.
Ryker led him to a trailer park just out of the ‘burg. Negotiating it, Layne knew that Stew’s other woman might not carry extra baggage like Gabby, on her body and through two boys fathered by another man, but she wasn’t a supermodel either.
Layne cut the lights when Ryker told him they were rolling close, parked where Ryker instructed and they both walked through the cold, silent dark of the trailer park. When they got to the trailer Ryker indicated, one end was lit, the curtains opened. Ryker stayed clear and kept lookout as Layne approached the trailer.
When he got there, Layne saw that Stew was already celebrating and Ryker’s information, already proved legit, became even more so. She was na**d on her hands and knees, she was absolutely no supermodel, Stew was na**d behind her and he was going through the backdoor. Not pretty.
Layne’s mouth filled with saliva and he swallowed it down.
Jesus.
He definitely needed a new job.
He wasted no time and didn’t try to hide. He’d done this often enough. Even with him right at the window, they weren’t going to spot him. They were both concentrating on other things. Layne got his shots, moved from the window, crouched with his back to the trailer, scrolled through what he had viewing the screen on the back of his camera, decided he had enough at the same time deciding, once those shots were printed, he was going to destroy the memory card and the camera.
His eyes went to Ryker and he nodded, Ryker nodded back and they moved to the SUV.
When they were underway, Ryker said, “Drop me by my babe’s.”
“You got it.”
Ryker directed him to a neighborhood in the ‘burg. Lower middle class, neat but tiny houses that people took care of. Layne pulled into the drive that Ryker indicated and no sooner had he stopped when the outside light came on. There was a black flag by the door with an orange pumpkin on it and three carved jack o’ lanterns lining the front steps. Layne was mildly surprised that Ryker bagged a babe who lived in a tidy neighborhood and had a pumpkin flag flying at her door and jack o’ lanterns on her steps.
He was more surprised when the front door opened, a leggy woman with a mass of curly red hair stood in it, her thin, short robe not hiding much of her phenomenal figure but it also wasn’t putting it on show either. She was peering at the truck, looking awake but ready for bed and whatever might happen there. She’d waited up for her man.
Layne looked at Ryker and noted, “Not bad.”
At Layne’s words, Ryker turned to him and shared, “She makes pumpkin bread that should win awards and the same can be said for the way she gives head. Seriously, bro, every time she goes down on me, every single time, I swear my dick’s gonna explode. She’s that good.”
Layne shook his head. “I already got Stew goin’ at his piece burned in my brain, Ryker, now you’re just bein’ cruel.”
Ryker shot him his ugly smile, opened his door and folded out of the cab. Layne put the SUV in reverse, pulled out but caught sight of Ryker entering the house, his huge frame hiding his woman but he had an arm around her, his neck bent to look down at her, shuffling her back. Ryker kicked the door closed and Layne’s eyes went back to the road.
He drove home and noted no Calais on the curb or in the drive and, when the garage door went up, no Charger. Seth apparently decided to brave the homefront and Layne hoped he hadn’t made the wrong decision.
Layne entered the house and Blondie moseyed up to him, prepared to give a greeting but tuckered out. He gave her a quick rubdown then moved beyond her, up the stairs, Blondie following and they separated at the top, Blondie heading to Jasper’s opened door. He shrugged his jacket off and swung it around the back of his desk chair. Then he secured his guns and the camera in the locked cabinet and walked into his room.
He stopped at his side of the bed. Moonlight was shining through all three of the windows, the curtains opened, Rocky on her side of the bed curled tight into a ball. He reached under his pillows, got his pajamas and didn’t bother going to the walk-in to change, he did it right there. Then he walked to the windows and started to close the curtains. He was on window three when he heard Rocky.
“What are you doing?”
He turned to her and replied softly, “Closin’ us in, baby.”
Layne tensed to move toward the guy but Ryker curled a meaty hand around Layne’s shoulder.
“Focus, bro,” he whispered. “Tonight you’re a hero for your boys, not this guy. Let’s go. Baranski’s not done.”
Layne clenched his jaw, knowing Ryker was right. It would be the right thing to do but being seen would also jeopardize the mission. People talked even if you told them to keep their traps shut. He didn’t need his and Ryker’s attendance at the festivities getting out.
Though Ryker was right and Layne was pissed about it, he still moved through the shadows with Ryker to the Suburban. Once they were in the cab, they still had eyes on the guy and Layne waited with Ryker, both of them silent, until the guy crawled to his feet, arm wrapped around his ribs, bent nearly double with his other hand at his thigh, blood oozing between his fingers, and he scuttled into the night dragging his bad leg.
When they lost sight of him, Ryker muttered, “Bet that dipshit lost the urge to visit the track anytime soon.”
Layne turned to Ryker, not in the mood for a breakdown. “Stew has another collection?”
Ryker shook his head, Layne felt his eyes on him in the dark and he didn’t get a good feeling when he saw the white of Ryker’s smile. “Nope. After he’s done a job, he gets horny.”
“Come again?” Layne asked.
“Your ex ain’t gonna like those photos you just took but he’s got her hooked deep and he knows it. You wanna be certain to get a woman to set a man out, you show her pictures of that man porkin’ another woman. Even Baranski isn’t stupid enough for you to show him those kind of shots and not know his time in Big Momma’s House o’ the Free Ride is up.”
This just got worse and worse.
Jesus.
“You know where he’ll be?” Layne asked but he knew Ryker knew.
“Yeah,” Ryker sounded like he was laughing. “Sorry bro, ‘bout to show you the only thing that’ll put you off that piece you got waitin’ for you at home.”
“Great,” Layne muttered and started the SUV through Ryker’s chuckle.
Ryker led him to a trailer park just out of the ‘burg. Negotiating it, Layne knew that Stew’s other woman might not carry extra baggage like Gabby, on her body and through two boys fathered by another man, but she wasn’t a supermodel either.
Layne cut the lights when Ryker told him they were rolling close, parked where Ryker instructed and they both walked through the cold, silent dark of the trailer park. When they got to the trailer Ryker indicated, one end was lit, the curtains opened. Ryker stayed clear and kept lookout as Layne approached the trailer.
When he got there, Layne saw that Stew was already celebrating and Ryker’s information, already proved legit, became even more so. She was na**d on her hands and knees, she was absolutely no supermodel, Stew was na**d behind her and he was going through the backdoor. Not pretty.
Layne’s mouth filled with saliva and he swallowed it down.
Jesus.
He definitely needed a new job.
He wasted no time and didn’t try to hide. He’d done this often enough. Even with him right at the window, they weren’t going to spot him. They were both concentrating on other things. Layne got his shots, moved from the window, crouched with his back to the trailer, scrolled through what he had viewing the screen on the back of his camera, decided he had enough at the same time deciding, once those shots were printed, he was going to destroy the memory card and the camera.
His eyes went to Ryker and he nodded, Ryker nodded back and they moved to the SUV.
When they were underway, Ryker said, “Drop me by my babe’s.”
“You got it.”
Ryker directed him to a neighborhood in the ‘burg. Lower middle class, neat but tiny houses that people took care of. Layne pulled into the drive that Ryker indicated and no sooner had he stopped when the outside light came on. There was a black flag by the door with an orange pumpkin on it and three carved jack o’ lanterns lining the front steps. Layne was mildly surprised that Ryker bagged a babe who lived in a tidy neighborhood and had a pumpkin flag flying at her door and jack o’ lanterns on her steps.
He was more surprised when the front door opened, a leggy woman with a mass of curly red hair stood in it, her thin, short robe not hiding much of her phenomenal figure but it also wasn’t putting it on show either. She was peering at the truck, looking awake but ready for bed and whatever might happen there. She’d waited up for her man.
Layne looked at Ryker and noted, “Not bad.”
At Layne’s words, Ryker turned to him and shared, “She makes pumpkin bread that should win awards and the same can be said for the way she gives head. Seriously, bro, every time she goes down on me, every single time, I swear my dick’s gonna explode. She’s that good.”
Layne shook his head. “I already got Stew goin’ at his piece burned in my brain, Ryker, now you’re just bein’ cruel.”
Ryker shot him his ugly smile, opened his door and folded out of the cab. Layne put the SUV in reverse, pulled out but caught sight of Ryker entering the house, his huge frame hiding his woman but he had an arm around her, his neck bent to look down at her, shuffling her back. Ryker kicked the door closed and Layne’s eyes went back to the road.
He drove home and noted no Calais on the curb or in the drive and, when the garage door went up, no Charger. Seth apparently decided to brave the homefront and Layne hoped he hadn’t made the wrong decision.
Layne entered the house and Blondie moseyed up to him, prepared to give a greeting but tuckered out. He gave her a quick rubdown then moved beyond her, up the stairs, Blondie following and they separated at the top, Blondie heading to Jasper’s opened door. He shrugged his jacket off and swung it around the back of his desk chair. Then he secured his guns and the camera in the locked cabinet and walked into his room.
He stopped at his side of the bed. Moonlight was shining through all three of the windows, the curtains opened, Rocky on her side of the bed curled tight into a ball. He reached under his pillows, got his pajamas and didn’t bother going to the walk-in to change, he did it right there. Then he walked to the windows and started to close the curtains. He was on window three when he heard Rocky.
“What are you doing?”
He turned to her and replied softly, “Closin’ us in, baby.”
