BooksBarbecue
Back The Asset
Chapters (86)
  1. Foreword
  2. 1
  3. 2
  4. 3
  5. 4
  6. 5
  7. 6
  8. 7
  9. 8
  10. 9
  11. 10
  12. 11
  13. 12
  14. 13
  15. 14
  16. 15
  17. 16
  18. 17
  19. 18
  20. 19
  21. 20
  22. 21
  23. 22
  24. 23
  25. 24
  26. 25
  27. 26
  28. 27
  29. 28
  30. 29
  31. 30
  32. 31
  33. 32
  34. 33
  35. 34
  36. 35
  37. 36
  38. 37
  39. 38
  40. 39
  41. 40
  42. 41
  43. 42
  44. 43
  45. 44
  46. 45
  47. 46
  48. 47
  49. 48
  50. 49
  51. 50
  52. 51
  53. 52
  54. 53
  55. 54
  56. 55
  57. 56
  58. 57
  59. 58
  60. 59
  61. 60
  62. 61
  63. 62
  64. 63
  65. 64
  66. 65
  67. 66
  68. 67
  69. 68
  70. 69
  71. 70
  72. 71
  73. 72
  74. 73
  75. 74
  76. 75
  77. 76
  78. 77
  79. 78
  80. 79
  81. 80
  82. 81
  83. 82
  84. 83
  85. 84
  86. Afterword

He seemed pretty pleased with himself for someone who’d also lost his temper. He sat there like an idiot, watching her put on her seatbelt.

“What?” she said. “Drive.”

“We’re not going anywhere.”

“What do you mean?”

“You want to be his handler, right?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Sweetheart, this is the job you signed up for.”

Laurel took a deep breath. She looked at him, still with that stupid grin on his face.

“Oh, come on. You want me to go back in there?”

“No, I want you to come back to the hotel with me and watch some more home improvement shows while I finish the crossword.”

“This is unbelievable,” she said, unbuckling her seatbelt.

“This is the job, honey.”

“It’s a waste of time is what it is. He wanted to shoot us the second he saw you. ”

“But he let us in, didn’t he?”

“He let me in.”

“Yes he did, and he’ll take the bait, Laurel. Mark my words.”

“Bait?”

Roth smiled. “Bait, sweetheart.”

15

“You like omelettes?” Lance said.

Sam was leaning languidly over the back of the sofa, the shape of her nipples clearly visible through the thin t-shirt she’d slept in.

Then the front door opened and it was Laurel, back for more. She looked just as flustered as when she’d stormed out two minutes earlier.

“Come on in,” Lance said. “Roth leaving without you?”

“He’s going to wait at the hotel.”

“And you’re back to convince me to come.”

“You know how this works better than I do.”

Lance wondered what she’d been told, how many of the blanks she’d been able to fill in, and how much of a shock she was still in for.

“How about some more coffee?” he said.

Laurel followed him back to the kitchen and sat down. He poured three fresh cups and brought one to Sam.

When he reached her he said, “You ever have a roommate?”

“I can take a hint,” she said.

“Rain check on the omelette?”

“Whatever,” she said, and he averted his eyes as she got out from under the blankets in the flimsy t-shirt and a skimpy lace thong.

She pulled on her things and Lance said, “Take my truck into town and buy yourself some clothes.”

“Okay,” she said.

“There’s a credit card in the glove box. Pin is 1963.”

“I don’t need your money.”

He knew that wasn’t true. “Well, if you need gas or something,” he said. “1963. The year of the Kennedy assassination.”

“The Kennedy what?”

Lance looked at her.

“I’m kidding,” she said.

She left with the keys and Lance prayed she’d buy herself something decent. If he’d been sleeping with her that would be one thing, but he wasn’t, and the thongs and nipples were killing him.