Page 9 of Slow Burn

In the bathroom, the shower came on. Jim’s eyes widened, and his mouth opened. Before he could get out whatever damning thing he was thinking, the bathroom door banged open.

“Hey!” The hooker held onto the door and leaned out, naked, barely covered by the angle. “Hey, where’sa soap?”

“In the soapdish,” he said wearily. The hooker disappeared back into the bathroom, and the door slammed. More bumps and bangs, the rattle of a shower curtain. “Robby—”

“I know. I’m sorry.” She spread her hands helplessly.

He shook his head and counted bills; it was something his fingers did automatically, a machine-quick fanning of paper. Robby began counting her stack, lost track, and had to start again.

By the time she’d finished, everyone else was done. She took a deep breath and handed over her totals.

“Slow day,” Kelly said neutrally, as she added on a pocket calculator. “Jim, what you figure on cards?”

“I can get fifty each.”

“I’ll say forty, in case. Yeah, okay. I’ll let you know about the ATM totals. Right now, it’s—” She held up the calculator and angled it to get a better look. “Three thousand seven hundred ninety-three. Minus Sol’s slice, of course.”

“Of course,” Jim said. “If he’s coming.”

“Not today. He said for me to take it for him.” Kelly was looking down at her calculator; over her head, Jim looked across at Robby. The doubt was subtle but real, and she knew he read it in her face, too. Sol was a necessary evil—the local wiseguys needed to feel in control—but Kelly had slowly but surely become Mafia-by-marriage, only without the marriage. Nobody liked it.

Nobody had much to say about it, either.

“Ooh, honey, sounds serious,” Mark cooed. She slapped his hand. “Carrying hismoney.More important than carrying hisbaby.”

“Shut up,” Kelly said, a little too sharply. Her round face colored shell-pink. “He asked me to do it.”

“Uh-huh. Sure he did.”

“Mark—”

“Heck, honey, I don’t care, I was just hoping for a second date with him.” Mark batted his eyelashes. Robby saw the malicious gleam in his smile and winced. Kelly didn’t tease well. “Those Italians. Spicy sausage.”

“Shutup!”No pink in those cheeks now, hot little spots of red. “You flaming—”

“Children,” Jim said flatly, and reached over Kelly’s shoulder to pick up a stack of cash. “Seven-o-five in cash, right?”

“Right,” she said; she was still glaring at Mark. “We’ll split the credit card and ATM money on Thursday.”

“Good. Now. Robby—”

“I know,” Robby sighed. “Get the hooker out of your shower.”

What the hell was she doing in the rain? The ground underneath her felt cool and smooth. She wiggled a little. Her skin squeaked—oh, god, she’d lost her clothes someplace. What the hell—

Ah. Naked. Shower. Oh, yeah. No wonder the rain was warm. Velvet let her head loll forward, and the warmth beat on the back of her neck with tiny balled fists. Jesus, yes. Just what she needed. Time to relax, to get her head together—

Where the fuck was she?

The shower curtain rattled, and she looked up, right into the rain. She snorted it out of her nose and tried to focus on the shadow standing there.

A French-manicured hand reached down and turned off the HOT. Velvet blinked, confused, unable to imagine what that meant.

The water turned ice cold and slammed down on her like sleet. She shrieked and covered her head, but that only sent cold water sluicing down her sides. She flailed around and caught hold of the old-lady handhold on the wall and got her feet under her.

It was a mistake. She’d forgotten about the pink soap in the tub, and it made a nice skate. She lost her balance and pitched forward into the tile wall.

“Ow,” she said, pitifully. Her chin hurt, and when she swiped at it her fingers came away red. The blood dribbled off in the water, misted pink, and disappeared. She slapped at the COLD knob until the sleet stopped.

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