Free Slick as Ides by Chanse Lowell, K. I. Lynn, Lynda Kimpel Page B

get her car back, there’s no way she just gave it to you.” He stares at me like he’s looking at a ghost. “Holy shit. You fucked her, didn’t you? Goddamn.” He chokes on his breath and cracks a crooked smile.
    “Get that fucking smug look off your face. I said I talked to her, and that’s all you need to know. And I got this car without having to hot-wire it.” I tip my chin at the car as I step out.
    “Well, fuck . . .” His eyes are wide. He licks his lips as he stares at the car.
    “Do whatever you want with it. I don’t need the money on this one, but I get any of her belongings that are in the vehicle.” I step to the back door, open it and grab the prize along with a black hoodie she left behind.
    “What the hell is that?”
    “Nothing important. I had it in my pocket earlier and set it in the backseat before taking her car for a spin.” I shove what looks like a remote into my pocket. Then I walk over to the large garbage can and dump her sweatshirt inside. Don’t need that article of clothing of hers when I have much better ones in my pocket.
    “Whatever, dude. I don’t wanna know what the fuck is going on with you anyway, and you know I hate it when you lie to me like you did just now.” He rolls his shoulders and almost salivates over the car, running his fingers over the hood.
    “Hold on,” I say, and drift to the license plate in the back. I remove the second tracker I placed there earlier—the one she was unaware of. I show it to him and smirk. “Stupid bitch didn’t have any clue of how I found her.” A pang of guilt ripples through me that I have to say shit like this to cover up what’s really going on, but I can’t slip. I just can’t.
    “How many of those did you put on her car?”
    “Three. She got the first one, the second one I think fell off, but this one stayed right where I put it.” I kiss it and shove it in my other pocket.
    Damn, I probably look like a shoplifter with all this shit shoved in my pants, pockets bulging.
    He bursts out laughing. “You two were fucking made for each other.”
    “Now will you say it?”
    “Nope,” he says, popping his P. “She’s still slicker than you, and you know it.”
    “Fuck. You. And. Her.”
    “I’m thinking you already fucked her , but I’m not available—sorry,” he says, snickering. “I’m sure she could arrange something for you with that Paco dude in prison she seems so fond of.”
    I groan and roll my eyes. Why do I put up with him and his stupidity?
    “Any color but purple. She likes that shit.” I pat the back window and smile, ignoring the rest of his inane rambling about Ides and inmates. She’s not pals with dickheels like that. She was just talking shit—that’s what she’s always done with me when she’s flirting.
    “Why does it matter what she thinks? It’s not like she’s ever gonna see it again.” He eyes me like I’m holding out on him.
    I shrug. We both know she’ll find this car and get it back. The new owner’ll have one of hell of a shock when that little girl comes and takes it from them.
    I step inside his house and straight away make myself something to eat while I listen for the sounds of him in his garage, already stripping down the car of any identifying marks that say it was hers.
    After I’ve had a beer, devoured my food and sat down on his couch, I rifle through her chip on my phone.
    “Nice,” I say. I’ve tapped into her security cameras and she’s still in bed naked.
    Appears to be touching herself with her eyes closed, and she’s saying something.
    I turn the volume up, wishing I had a way to record this.
    “Oh God . . . Oh my fucking God,” she moans.
    “Shit,” I say under my breath, sounding hoarse. I don’t think I’ll be able to wait until I’d originally planned before breaking back in.
    She’s got something I need—well, her pussy, too—but dammit, this is fucking hot.
    She pulls out a vibrator from her side table drawer, clicks it on, and