So I have to let the mental case in my head run around loose with his loony ideas.
You can imagine how it would feel, right? The grip of those fantastic thighs? Her hands, grasping, clawing. Scratching. Breath, beating hot on your skin? You could, you know. And she would be so fabulous. You know she would. The burn of her lips on your flesh?
Shimmering in the side mirror is the little red sports car. Coming up fast. We’re on a street at the back of Binion’s Casino. Parking levels rise on our right.
A guy leans out the side of the Ferrari. Pointing something. I accelerate hard. He speeds up behind us. The wind slaps my face hard. I’m almost flat out. The little Ferrari draws level with us on the outside.
I brake, hard, and turn right. The Ferrari turns, too hard. He slews, and the back fishtails. Arcing in front of the stern, municipal looking Mob Museum, it looks like Giovani’s going to get the skid under control. Then the car flips.
We’re long gone. Speeding past the back of the Downtown Grand and I don’t get a chance to see the final outcome.
I shout, “I hope your brother’s okay.”
“Why? I don’t care.”
“You don’t mean that.”
She pulls her wrists hard into my gut.
“How the fuck do you know what I mean?”
And I don’t know the answer to that.
Chapter Seven
Finn
I ride us around Downtown for about twenty minutes, doubling back, making fast turns, avoiding the blocks around the Mob Museum. Downtown Las Vegas looks unfinished in daylight. Washed out and kind of empty.
When I’m satisfied nobody is following us, I flip onto North City parkway and under the incongruous Historic Westside sign on the Highway 15 overpass.
Quiet, low rise, low rent Marble Manor is sparse, white and almost flat. I picked it because it’s a place where not much happens and nobody is likely to notice you. I thought it was a perfect place to be invisible and anonymous. That said, with it being so flat, and so little building, a motorcycle can be seen and heard from a long way off.
My undistinguished gray rental Toyota is in front of the isolated one-story that I rented anonymously. I pop the garage door with the beeper in my pocket.
It closes the door again when I’ve got the bike inside. The empty, pale gray cement garage feels oddly safe and secure, knowing that nobody tracked us here.
With the door completely shut, LED lights flood the echoing space in a hard, blueish glare. There’s nothing in here but the smoking, clicking bike, a tool bench, and a locked door to the house. That and her and me.
I cut the cable ties to let her get off the bike. She leans against my back for a moment before she moves.
I’m dreaming again. I need to stay grounded. Keep my feet on the floor.
“Nice place.” She stretches her legs. “I like what you’ve done with it.”
“Are you always this smart? I pity the guy who’s going to marry you.”
Her hair spills, and she shakes it as she pulls the helmet off.
“Nobody is going to fucking marry me.”
I look up as I’m hanging the helmets on the bars of the bike.
“Sorry. Raw nerve?” I look at her. I don’t like upsetting her.
But, really, I do have to try and make her hate me. I tell her, “I don’t plan to marry either. I’m not really even a relationship kind of a guy. I think I’m just not built for the whole love, marriage thing.”
“No. I won’t be married if I can help it.”
“See, we have that in common.”
“We have a disinterest in common.”
“Are you hungry?”
“Almost always.” She glares into my eyes. “What are you waiting for?”
“You want to hurry this process along.”
“Is there a ransom demand? Because, I have to tell you, I don’t know that my family will pay much to get me back.”
“I think they want you back.”
“Did they hire you?”
“No.” That’s one of those things that’s completely true, but completely misleading. But I don’t think I should tell her too much. She is very smart. She’s a lot smarter than I am. So, I need to take her out of her comfort zone.
“That kiss.” I look in her eye and her chin tips up. “Props for the move, by the way. Genius gag. You really got me there.”
She shrugs. Like she’s being modest. I go on, “It meant something, though. I know it did.” She’s looking back at me. Watching. Not giving anything away.
I say, “Sure, it was a great ruse, leaving me in the basement with my arms full of memory. But it wasn’t supposed to mean anything, was it?”
She takes a deep breath. I see a tremble in her neck. She says, “And it didn’t.”
“No? Come on. You know it did.” So, that’s a win. In one move, I’ve whisked her right out of her comfort zone.