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

the first four.”
    “Show-off ,” I mouthed back while heaving my own Desert Eagle from the back of my black jeans.
    He killed the light and pressed against the wall by the door. I ducked under the table and waited.
    There was whispering. And then quiet footsteps in the hallway, moving closer and closer. A strange tension built in my chest and I willed myself to breathe. I trained my eyes on the doorway and aimed low.
    There were two of them. Meaty guys with guns and shadowed faces. They stopped at the door and listened. One shifted his piece to the other hand and took a step inside. He twisted his thick neck around the door frame. Max hit him dead center on the back of his neck. He dropped in a big ol’ heap of stars.
    Before the second guy could react, Max shuffled a step and plowed his face with a full-on punch. He went over backwards. The floor delivered the final blow.
    Cristina peered from behind the bar all googly-eyed. Blink blink.
    “Hot damn, Double Oh Seven.”
    I high-fived the air. “It was a team effort.”
    Max grabbed my arm and Cristina scampered behind us. We stomped over the sleeping trolls, hotfooted down the hall and through the door that opened to the pub. We escaped in the wake of leprechauns and St. Nick. Breaking out the front door, we jerked off our masks on the other side.
    The Hummer was parked in front of the pub. We tumbled inside and the look-out duo squealed.
    Halah said, “That’s what I’m talkin’ about! No one gets in on our watch.” She karate-chopped the air. “We wudda whacked ’em good.”
    Cristina’s hands trembled. She cracked open a bottle of Jameson she had snagged from behind the bar.
    “Kyle’s finest,” she said.
    Cleo hauled out a Beretta pistol and blew on the barrel. “Nobody gets past the Pants On Fire Posse.”
    Cristina tipped the bottle to her lips and gulped. “Shut up,” she said.
    There was the sound of an engine cranking and headlights flashed across the street. A red Ferrari merged with the traffic. I did a double-take. And laughed. Uncle Joey shot a thumbs-up cruising by.

Chapter Fifteen
    I woke the next morning with a song spinning in my head.
    Georgia On My Mind…
    My pillow hinted of peach shampoo and aftershave. I reached for Savino and got nothing. One eye squeezed open. 9:09. Special Agent Chance Savino was long gone. He’d be on his third coffee and second yogurt by now.
    I cuddled up in the blankets and hummed a little. I thought about coffee and donuts. And Georgia.
    “Arrrrgh!”
    Georgia! I lunged for the phone and punched some numbers.
    “Jack’s Auto Repair.”
    “Hey. Jack. This is Cat DeLuca.”
    He grunted. “Matt from Georgia was here when I arrived at seven.”
    Ouch. “I promised his wife I’d call.”’
    “That’s what he said.”
    “Tell him I’m sorry. I worked late and—”
    “I told him you were unreliable. And dangerous.”
    Geesh! Dorothy again.
    “Jack, I’m sorry the bad guys blew up Dorothy. But it wasn’t me.”
    “She was a good car. The best car.”
    “Dorothy’s with your dad now,” I said, and paused a moment out of respect. “What about Matt from Georgia? Did you give him a job?”
    “He’s working on a transmission now. The kid knows what he’s doing.”
    I felt a surge of relief. “Right on. They’ll be able to move out of that awful hotel.”
    “Matt didn’t say anything about a hotel. I’ll ask around. I might be able to find something for him.”
    I expected no less. “Thanks, Jack.”
    “Words are cheap, Caterina. I want your mama’s cannoli.”
    “Done.”
    “My nephew Devin was released from treatment yesterday. I’m proud of him. He’ll have a fresh start.”
    “Uh huh.”
    “The guys at the shop are having a party for him. I want you to come.”
    “God, no.”
    “I don’t like your attitude.”
    “Your nephew is dangerous.”
    “No one’s perfect.”
    “He tried to kill me.”
    “So you’re the one holding a grudge now.”
    I opened my mouth to say