Free Cherry Bomb by J. A. Konrath Page B

the day, when she’s in school.”
    No husband, no mother, and a stripper to boot. She’s almost perfect.
    “If to night isn’t good, maybe sometime later?”
    “Definitely. Let’s trade numbers.”
    Sammy digs a pen out of her purse, writes down Alex’s cell phone number on the back of a McDonald’s receipt. She rips the paper in half, and gives Alex her number.
    “One more thing, Sammy. And this is embarrassing. When I was working, sometimes the customers would want a little extra attention, and I got busted. As a condition of my parole, I’m not allowed to associate with any known criminals. If you’ve got a record…”
    Sammy shakes her head.
    “I’m clean as a whistle. High Rollers gets stung all the time, under-cover cops coming in, trying to get the girls to do more than dance. Two of my friends got nailed, so I don’t do that. Not that I think it’s wrong or anything. Just can’t risk getting arrested when I’ve got Melinda to look after.”
    “Cool. Good luck to night. Make some money.”
    “I always do. Hopefully we can hook up soon, Gracie.”
    Alex smiles her half smile and pats Melinda on the head.
    “You can count on it.”

CHAPTER 15
    P HIN WORE JEANS and a white T-shirt, an outfit I’d seen him in many times. When he was bald from the chemo, it made him look like Mr. Clean, right down to the broad chest and narrow hips. He was currently in remission and his hair was back, blond and cut short.
    He was leaning over the pool table, lining up his shot using a bridge. I’d never seen him use a bridge before, but when I eased through the throng of bar patrons and got closer I saw the reason. His left arm was in a sling.
    Phin glanced up at me, looked back down at the table, and worked the stick. The cue ball hit the six, which knocked the nine into a side pocket, winning the game. His opponent, a blue-collar guy with mean eyes and a fuzzy beard, swore and dropped ten bucks on the rail.
    “Lucky shot, crip. Let’s go again.”
    Phin laid down the cue and the money disappeared into his jeans.
    “Some other time, pal. I’ve got some other competition.”
    “Like hell. We’re going again. I got money to win back.”
    “I said later.”
    “I said now!”
    Mean Eyes grabbed Phin by his bad arm, high on the biceps. Phin spun, so fast he was a blur, coming up behind the guy and snatching his hair. He yanked, flipping his attacker over an outstretched leg and onto his back. Phin placed a boot heel on his throat as Mean Eyes flailed his arms. The flailing stopped when Phin raised the cue, directly over the man’s eye.
    “I beat you at nine ball one-handed. You want me to kick your ass one-handed?”
    Mean Eyes attempted to shake his head. Tough to do, when someone is stepping on your neck.
    Phin raised his foot, and the guy scrambled away, pushing through the gawkers. Then Phin tilted up his head at me. My dress was still damp and clingy, and his stare lingered on my body in an unmistakably male way. I’d been gawked at by men all day, but this time it didn’t bother me. Truth told, it made my skin flush, which warmed me up for the first time in hours. When Phin’s eyes finally met mine, they were kind.
    “Hi, Jack. Latham was a good guy. I’m sorry I couldn’t go to the funeral.”
    I had expected Phin to make an appearance, after all we’d been through together. But my earlier chat with the Feebies explained his absence.
    “Too many cops there,” I said.
    “Not my kind of crowd.”
    “Last time we spoke, you told me you weren’t wanted for anything.”
    “You had enough on your mind, Jack. Didn’t want to burden you.”
    I should have been pissed, but the smile was already on my lips.
    “Road flares?”
    Phin’s face stayed blank.
    “What are you referring to, Lieutenant?”
    “You want to play coy? You weren’t coy for the bank cameras. The Feds showed me a nice picture of you waving.”
    “Must have me confused with some other handsome guy.” His voice betrayed