Page 160 of Seeking Vengeance

“Well? Get goin’.” He jerks his chin to the door. “If you hang around I’m going to assume you want to participate in the finale.” His eyes meet mine as his mouth curves. “That’ll get you a free phone call.”

Fuck him. And every other motherfucker in this godforsaken city.

I start for the door, majorly pissed and equally helpless, until my palms press against the wood. “What about a Bentley?” I glance at him over my shoulder. “There’s one parked a few blocks from here.”

“And?”

“And you can have it.”

“A Bentley?” He looks at me as if I’m deranged. “You’re offering a car for a phone call?”

“I’m offering someone else’s car for a phone call.”

He raises a brow. “Stolen?”

“Borrowed.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, scrutinizing me. “And the person you borrowed it from?”

“Can afford to replace it without batting an eye.” I pull the car fob from my pocket and lob it toward him. “Just don’t get caught.”

He seizes the projectile with a grin and reaches beneath the counter to place a cell on the scuffed laminate. “I guess we have a deal.”

I wish I could slump with relief, but as necessary as a phone is, the resulting call with Cole isn’t something I’m looking forward to. If only I had the luxury to put it off.

I walk for the counter, about to reach for the cell when the man stands and recaptures the device.

“Hold up, Gucci belt. Where is this borrowed Bentley of yours?”

“A few blocks from here. Maybe a ten-minute walk. I can draw you a map.”

He flashes a mouth full of yellow teeth. “You can walk along with me.”

“That’s not going to happen. Just give me the goddamn phone.”

“Why would I? I already have the car key.”

“You also have a death wish if you plan to fuck me over. Up until this point I’ve been more than civil. I promise that won’t continue if you don’t hand over the cell.”

“They’re big words from a teeny, tiny woman.”

“A teeny, tiny woman who has family in some pretty dark places.” I smile, hoping the curve of my lips exudes equal threat and confidence. “Have you ever pissed off the underworld before, little man?”

His eyes narrow, the squint deepening before he finally pushes to his feet. “Fine. A Bentley for a phone call.”

“A Bentley for a phone callanda room to stay in for a few hours.”

He scoffs. “She comes in here a panting, skittish mouse, and now thinks she’s a ball-busting hustler.”

“Deal or no deal?”

He reaches beneath the counter, the clink of metal sounding before he slaps a key with a large wooden keychain on the laminate. “Take room 102. Ground floor. Two doors down. But if I walk away from here and there’s no Bentley—”

“There’s a Bentley. Now give me a pen and paper so I can draw the damn map.”

He complies, hovering close as I sketch the streets from memory. Once I’m done he snatches the scribbled paper and skirts the counter to stride across the small reception.

“One phone call,” he warns, pulling the front door open. “And there better not be no international charges on my account when I get back.”

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