The highway behind me fades in the distance as I accelerate, putting my foot down and giving the powerful new red Ferrari a little more gas. If anyone had told me a short while ago I’d be signing on to work for the most powerful crime family in the world, instead of boosting cars for a living, I wouldn’t have believed it.
Only a crime family would give an ex-wheelman a spot on their elite security team. These men treat me like brothers and are the only family that I have now, and I would do anything for them. Even leave the thrumming city nightlife and pretty girls to drive to Deadwood, South Dakota to help one of our own.
I turn the speakers up a little louder and press the accelerator down, making my way from Chicago over to Lacrosse, Des Moines, and west toward Rapid City. My phone rings through the speaker, and I push a button to connect.
“Hey, just calling to check in and see how far out you are? I talked to Jay, and he said you were about halfway last time he talked to you.”
“Just heading into Rapid City,” I tell him, looking at the dash to check the time and my speed and the illegal-as-fuck radar detector screen.
“How in the hell did you do that? You know that’s over a thirteen-hour trip for most of us who drive it from time to time,” Cole says.
I laugh. “I know, but you guys aren’t me. A wheelman with a reputation to uphold,” I tell him.
He laughs. “Well, when you get here, you’re welcome to stay with me and the wife. We have plenty of room. I can’t promise you good night’s sleep, though, with the little one. Darcy’s still getting up quite a few times in the night.”
I glance up into the rearview mirror. I’ll be back to the city life before you know it because Cole may have settled down, but wives, kids and white picket fences just aren’t for me. “That’s kind of you, Cole, but I booked a spot over at Kenny’s place. The suite you used when you were in town before your house was finished.”
“Say no more, my friend. The nightlife isn’t exactly Vegas, Chicago, or New York City, but it’s home I miss it something fierce when I’m away. I think you’ll find plenty to keep you entertained.”
Cole knows me as well as anyone. I gesture around the bar area. “I figured it would help me stay close to all the action and maybe get a better handle on the situation, in addition to other things,” I tell him.
“No explanation needed. I was just the same until I met Krissy. When it’s the right one, you’ll know it,” Cole says.
I don’t even respond to that, because with my history and track record with women, that’s not likely to happen. At least not in this life.
Cole laughs. “Alright, enough with the brotherly advice about women. I’ll head into town first thing in the morning. We can have breakfast at Kenny’s diner, and I’ll fill you in on the details.”
The sound of another incoming call catches my attention. “Sounds good, Cole. How about we meet at ten downstairs in the restaurant?” I disconnect without waiting for an answer before switching to the next call. A short while later, I stop for gas, a cup of coffee, and to stretch on the outside of Rapid City before making the last short leg of the trip into Deadwood, South Dakota just after nightfall.
I make my way through town, taking in the lights that play on the little Vegas look with multiple signs and billboards offering gambling and drinks. I keep my eye out for a casino on the main strip, and pull into the parking lot of the Wild Deuces around back when I spot it.
Kenny is talking to one of the bartenders at the long counter when I walk into the bustling club. I take a seat on one of the stools, ordering a club soda and lime from the barkeep whose ponytail swishes as she works.
She hands me my drink. “I go by PJ.”
“Thank you,” I tell her, gesturing to Kenny who’s at the other end of the bar talking with a customer. “Can you let him know Garrett wants to talk with him when he gets a free minute?”
The young barkeep gives me a onceover. “Sure can. You new in town?” PJ asks.
“You could say that,” I tell her.
“I did say that,” PJ flips back at me, causing me to grin.
“Far be it from me to keep you from the eye candy on the floor,” she says, tracking my eyes watching the beautiful redhead swinging around the dance floor pole.
I give her a smile. “Sorry, who’s the redhead?” I ask.
She laughs. “New in town and already looking for trouble. That redhead would be Lacy, a good friend of mine and of Kenny’s. If you have your eye on her, you better be nice.”
I give her a grin and scan the laminated menu on the bar. “I’ll try one of those.” I point to a lager advertised as being made in Rapid City, “and one of these sandwiches.”
She beams. “Best burger in town. Kenny buys all the meat and most things local,” she says, filling a large glass with the amber liquid before handing it to me across the bar.
The crowd whistles, and I turn my attention toward the stage, watching as the redhead in a white lacy G-string and a set of matching pasties spins on a set of four-inch red stick heels.
My eyes are drawn to her dark green ones. They flash gold as she spins on the pole, her eyes meeting mine for a second before her hair falls in a wave of red, and she spins around and around for the finale and gives me and every red-blooded male in the joint a show we’re not likely to forget.
The crowd goes crazy, clapping and whistling as she gives us all an appreciative bow and then prances off the stage. I watch her with interest as she heads backstage. A few minutes later she returns from backstage in a pair of well-worn cowgirl boots and pink Henley that’s tucked into a tight pair of jeans that fit her small waist and heart-shaped ass perfectly.
Lacy walks toward a table where two women sit talking when a man with stringy brown hair and a grimace on his face grabs her by the arm.
She spins around, and even from here I can make out what she’s saying. “No, for the hundredth time, no!” she says, before trying to break free from the hold he has on her.
The man’s face turns into a sneer. He tugs her arm harder, pulling her toward him while tugging her through the crowd as she pulls even harder in the other direction.
My feet start moving on their own accord because no woman’s going to be manhandled while I’m around, especially a friend of Kenny’s. I reach the man before he even looks up, grab his other arm, and stretch it up behind his back.
“You get near this woman again, and you’re going to regret it. Understand?” I ask him, tightening my grip on his arm until he swears at me, let’s Lacy go, and stalks out of the club.
Her eyes are moist with pooled tears, but she doesn’t even shed one. “I’m not some damsel in distress. I can handle this myself,” she says.
I give her a onceover because she doesn’t look that tough to me. “The name’s Garrett Dean. I was trying to help.”
Lacy nods. “And everyone in here but you knows that you’ve just kicked up the meanest hornet’s nest in town. He’s not only going to come after me now, but you too,” she says, her green eyes flashing flecks of gold. “Just you wait and see.”