Cut and Run by Jeff Abbott Read Free Book Online Page A

ran a finger along his
     lips. He stopped her with his hand.
    ‘You’ve talked a lot,’ he said, and he put an edge in his voice, the way his father used to. He liked, no,
loved
the way she was talking to him but he couldn’t let her see that. ‘Where’s the proof against Frank?’
    ‘In your computers. I
     copied the files. In case Frank or Eve get wise …’
    ‘Eve’s in on this?’
    ‘She’s got twice the brains Frank does. No way she doesn’t know he’s skimming.’ Tasha Strong unhooked one of the CDs off her
     top. ‘I’m wearing the proof, baby.’ Her other hand strayed down to his crotch. ‘You want to go home with me and start it up?’
    Bucks suddenly realized he was outnumbered.
    Chauffeuring the Miami dumbasses wasn’t a big deal but he realized, as he pulled out into the thick traffic of Westheimer,
     he should have brought a buddy to watch his back. It was two against one. But Kiko and José were laughing, a little drunk,
     rating the dancers as if jigglingwere an Olympic event. He decided to take the long way home, wanting to hear what they might say about the deal. He pulled
     onto Loop 610, taking it toward I-10 East, which would lead toward the glittering towers of downtown Houston. He loved the
     city, loved its happy chaos, loved the way people drove like maniacs, loved the way the humid air held endless opportunity,
     even in the bad suck-ass years. Houston made you tough, tough to grab the chances that came your way, tough enough to persevere
     when the world soured.
    Kiko leaned over the dashboard, fiddled with the tape player, and suddenly Chad Channing’s confident voice filled the air.
     ‘Make your goals your friends, not your enemies. They are not to be challenged or overcome. They are to be embraced. Love
     your goals as you love yourself.’
    ‘What’s this peace, love, and understanding?’ José called from the back seat.
    ‘It’s Chad Channing,’ Kiko said. ‘Don’t you ever watch infomercials, man? He sells thousands of these tapes to’ – he paused
     as though searching for the word that would not insult – ‘people who need a little boost.’
    ‘Discover the goals within yourself as you discover your love for yourself,’ Chad purred on the tape. ‘They’re right under
     the skin, in fact. We’re all motivated by goals we haven’t even discovered or articulated yet.’
    ‘It’s better than coffee for getting me going,’ Bucks said, but suddenly he felt a little uncool. He felt Kiko’s gaze on him,
     amused, and he swallowed a thick lump in his throat. He clicked off the tape.
    ‘Oh, man, I wanted to hear more,’ José said. ‘I haven’t had a good arti-cu-lation in a long while.’
    ‘Hey, José, this tape is Bucks’ secret weapon,’ Kiko said. ‘How he stays so cool, so tough, all the time.’ Like it was funny.
    ‘That’s right.’ Bucks kept his voice steady. Greasy little bastards. He hated them both with a blackness that filled his chest.
     Thought they were clever when they were not worth the grit under his shoe.
    As he merged onto 1-10 Bucks felt a tickle at the back of his neck. He glanced into the rearview mirror and saw José smiling
     at him. Kiko, sitting in the passenger’s seat, said, ‘Because you’re so tough and cool, Mr Tight-Ass Executive, I know you
     aren’t going to freak.’
    The barrel of a pistol. That was the tickle along his nape. José held the Sig up so Bucks could see it, then put it back at
     Bucks’ throat. ‘We ain’t gonna hurt you, okay?’
    ‘Man, we’re all friends.’ Bucks was more surprised than scared. Shooting him while he was doing seventy on a Houston highway
     wasn’t real bright.
    ‘You’re right. We’re friends. But I wouldn’t hit a bump in the road right how,’ Kiko said. He carefully eased the Beretta
     out of Bucks’ back holster, Bucks even leaning forward a little to make it easier, deciding to cooperate.
    ‘Houston is pothole city, man, you can’t avoid bumps. Jesus, put