Free Royal Flush (The Jake Samson & Rosie Vicente Detective Series Book 6) by Shelley Singer Page A

credits, debits…” She laughed softly. She could have been saying, “Eenie, meenie, minie, mo” and it would have sounded sexy.
    Fortunately, just at that moment, the stumpy-looking female skinhead walked in. No danger of feeling any lust in that direction. Today she was wearing a black T-shirt with two lightning flashes crossed on a red and black shield. Around the shield were the words THUNDERSKIN NATION. I wondered what that was about. She tossed a casual wave toward the round table and its knights and walked up to the bar, nodding to Gilly, and to Steve. Then she eyed me.
    “See you came back.”
    Flattery had worked on Red. No harm in trying it again. “Maybe I came looking for you, beautiful.”
    She looked past my shoulder at Gilly, smirking.
    Gilly laughed. “Jase, this is Leslie.”
    Leslie didn’t like the laugh, but she took advantage of the invitation to sit on my other side. Gilly got up and wandered toward the back of the bar, and Leslie scooted a little closer.
    “You really Royal’s cousin?”
    “Yeah. I am. Why?”
    “He’s a sexy guy. Very tough. Real masculine, the way I like them.”
    What was she trying to prove, I wondered, and to whom?
    I laughed and took a sip of my coffee. “I guess he is. But you know, it’s not like I see him that way.”
    “Yeah.” Not the littlest laugh. I guessed that kind of thing was not to be joked about in Thor’s. “Why are you hanging here?”
    I gazed around the bar. “The people. The politics and the people. No mush-brained liberals in here.”
    “Yeah.” She pulled meditatively on her nose ring. “Maybe you can tell me something, though?”
    “Probably not.”
    She ignored that. “It’s about Royal. I met that stupid, wimpy, straight-edge little bitch he goes with. Deeanne, her name is.”
    “Straight-edge?”
    Leslie sneered at my freshcut ignorance. “Preppy. Conservative.”
    Wow. Deeanne straight-edge. Preppy. Artie would love to hear that. It might give him hope. It was giving me some. Not a good thing that she remembered Deeanne that well, though.
    “And what I wonder is, why does he want her?”
    “When here you are, this terrific skinhead girl, just ready and waiting?”
    “Something like that, yeah. Maybe not exactly waiting. Sexy kinda runs in Royal’s family.” She leered at me.
    “Well, Leslie, maybe he’ll come around if you wait for him to.”
    She narrowed her eyes and flexed her hands. “Maybe I should just stomp her.”
    “Maybe he likes delicate and ladylike women.” She snorted. I pointed at the symbol on her chest. “What’s that?”
    “Thunderskins. We’re worldwide. Whites only, dedicated to the race. No druggies, Jews, homos, government leeches, or niggers allowed. Worldwide. I got this shirt in London.” Light dawned. Thunder. Lightning. Skins. Thor’s. Thor made lightning and thunder with his hammer. I tried to look impressed.
    Gilly returned from the rest room and sat next to me again. “London?” she asked.
    Leslie ignored her. “You’re new in town, Jase. Maybe I should show you around a little, you know, for Royal. Go someplace nice.”
    “Hey!’ Steve had come back to our end of the bar. “You’re someplace nice now.”
    Leslie glowered at him. “You know what I mean. What do you think?”
    “Well, I think that’s a pretty good idea.” Like shaving my head and growing leaves.
    “What are you doing tonight, like for dinner?”
    “Oh, sorry. I’m busy.”
    “Really?” She flashed an angry look at Gilly. “Who with?”
    “My dad. Got to take him to see someone. Tomorrow night too.” What can I say? I panicked.
    The crease between her eyebrows flattened out again, and the heavy ridge over her eyes relaxed. I saw a forehead like that once on a statue at the Chicago Museum of Natural History, in an exhibit with a cave in the background.
    “Oh. Well, another time, then.”
    I looked at my watch. I didn’t have to. I knew what time it was. “In fact, I need to be going