Free Some Like It Hot by K.J. Larsen Page A

don’t have to use it. It has one hell of a kick back, babe.”
    “That’s a big-ass gun,” Cleo said. “I want one.”
    I said, “Aren’t you supposed to be getting ice cream somewhere far far away?”
    “No way,” Halah said. “We’re your getaway drivers.”
    “You don’t drive,” I reminded her.
    “She does now. She’s a quick learner.” Cleo said.
    Halah giggled. “Told you the Xbox racing games helped.”
    “She gave me some tips on how to tag cars to make them flip around. I am gonna pick myself up an Xbox 360 tomorrow.”
    “Fabulous, Cleo. Just what you need.”
    “Be nice,” Max said. “They’re fifteen.”
    We watched the staff wipe down the last tables and clean up the bar. When they had finished, they bundled their coats, locked the door, and disappeared in their cars.
    “Showtime,” I said.
    Max drove around back. He tossed Cleo his keys saying, “Park around front. You got me? Call if we get company.”
    Cleo snorted. “Don’t worry. If it’s Tierney, I’ll just blow his head off.”
    “Hey, I want a gun,” Halah whined in a way only a teen can.
    Cleo reached into her bag.
    “Don’t you dare,” I said between gritted teeth and tossed back my Lip Smacker. “Here, you can take mine.”
    Max and I pulled masks over our faces and grabbed our tools. We ran for the back door.
    Cristina pushed it open and pulled us inside.
    ***
    She led us through the kitchen to a dimly lit hallway with four or five doors on either side. A door at the end of the corridor would open to the pub. There would be a sign on the other side—Staff and Leprechauns . At the second door on our left, Cristina stopped and stretched on her tiptoes. Tracing her finger along the door frame, she dragged down a key.
    She opened the door. “Kyle is a man of habit. He hates change. Four years later, he’s got the same code on his security alarm.”
    She hit the light and we stepped inside. It was a man’s room. No fluff. Lots of rich browns, deep green, and leather. A wet bar, a single round oak table, and comfy chairs for long nights of high stake poker. It’s where Billy was busted fondling the safe. And where Kyle Tierney killed a man.
    Max hung a stethoscope around his neck. I unzipped my bag.
    “Only a handful of people know about the safe,” she said.
    Cristina crossed the room to a painting of a Dublin pub. She removed the picture, revealing a small high security wall safe with a dial combination lock.
    “Blow it up,” she said to Max and scooted back.
    I dragged out my drill. “I got this. YouTube 101.”
    Max explored the safe with gloved hands while I flexed my drill. He put the stethoscope to the dial, gently spun the lock, and the door swung opened.
    Cristina giggled. “Hot damn. Smokin’ Double OOOH Seven.”
    “It wasn’t locked.” I added brain surgeon under my breath.
    The stacks of money Cristina remembered were gone. No jewelry. No books—cooked or otherwise. Just a single sheet of paper. Max removed it from the safe and read out loud.
    “Cristina. I knew you’d come. You have something that belongs to me. And now I’m coming for you.”
    Max cocked a brow.
    “What the hell?” I said.
    She shuffled a foot. Like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
    Her eyes went blink blink. “I suppose it could be the earrings.”
    My teeth clenched. “The earrings you said belonged to you.”
    “It’s a long story.”
    “And I will choke it out of you.” I stuffed my drill in the bag and zipped. “ After we blow this gin joint. If Tierney’s expecting you, he could know we’re here.”
    A muted sound seeped from the kitchen. It was the back door. My heart skipped to my throat.
    Max whispered, “You’re a freaking 1-900 psychic.”
    The bad guys were coming. There was nowhere to run. And I’d given my Lip Smacker to Halah.
    Max pointed to the bar. In a flash, Cristina was behind it.
    I hesitated.
    Max pulled the Desert Eagle from inside his jacket. He mouthed; “ I’ll take