High Voltage (Ramsey Security #3)

“What do I care if he has someone bankrolling him?”


“Because,” Dino says, “after Sheriff Black gets a stranglehold over his little slice of Honky-tonk Heaven, do you think he’ll be satisfied? Common Bend is a tiny fucking place with whores and meth. White Horse has real money invested. Businesses he can shake down. Or use to launder his dirty money. Whatever, but you’re next on the colonization list.”

Even though Dino nails the situation, I’m mostly trying not to laugh at the filet mignon thing.

Hayes glares really ugly at Dino, who is back at his phone. I decide to play peacemaker. Well, what else am I going to do with these two?

“By helping us get rid of Sheriff Black, you’re eliminating a future problem for yourself.”

“Sounds about fucking right.”

“So, can you think of who might be pulling Black’s strings?”

Hayes narrows his eyes, and I’m sure he’s about to attack. Turns out he’s just thinking.

“You have Memphis fingers all over this state. The Rutgers family and their club run everything south of Hickory Creek Township for the Dixie Mafia. Johansson holds Common Bend only because the original Tennessee players were once blood-related to their Kentucky counterparts. As you know, Johansson and his club get backing from Memphis. Who in the fuck wants to fuck with that organization for a slice of nowhere Tennessee?”

“Hey, do you know a good place to get spaghetti around here?” Dino asks, standing up.

“What’s the fucking hurry?”

“I know the score about the area now. But until we spook the sheriff, we won’t find out whose dummy he is. So I plan to take this lovely slice of fuck pie to dinner. Does that sound okay to you, rib eye?”

I punch Dino in the arm. When he laughs, I hit him again.

“Chicks, right?” Dino says to Hayes. “The sexier the slice, the spicier the flavor.”

Standing up, I slap Dino upside the head. He refuses to be bothered. Hayes studies us before focusing on me.

“I’m assuming you’re the fucker in charge of this traveling circus,” he says, handing me a white card with a phone number on it. “Call me if you need fucking help, but only if you’re in my fucking territory. I ain’t saving you fucks otherwise.”

“So, about that spaghetti,” Dino says, looking at Hayes. “Anything good around here?”

“No, now get out of my fucking office before I lose my fucking hospitality.”

Dino winks at Hayes and then gestures for me to walk through the door. I know he’s planning to grab my ass, so I hurry past him. His hand still makes a reach for my left cheek, but I smack him away.

“You need to jack off more or take a pill. Something needs to be done to get your dick under control,” I growl at Dino while we walk past the crying chick and out of the office.

“My dick is just fine. Though if you’re really concerned, feel free to check it out real close and personal tonight.”

“How have you not been killed yet?” I ask, arriving at my SUV.

Smirking, Dino slides a hand through his thick black hair. “By you? Oh, I think we know the answer to that.”

“You’ll get me killed then.”

“No way, baby. These banjo-lovers won’t get the jump on a sexy assassin like you.”

“I’m not an assassin anymore.”

“Right,” he says, laughing. “Because we’re just here in Hickville to play detectives.”

I roll my eyes even if he isn’t wrong. Ditching him without another word, I drive to the Hampton Inn where Dino and I check into adjoining rooms on the second floor. I use the alias Jane Stouffer, while he announces himself as Anthony Martin.

The short ride up is awkward with me staring at the ceiling and him staring at my tits. Once the elevator doors open, Dino reaches for my suitcases.

“Don’t be a gentleman now,” I mutter, dodging him.

“I’m always a gentleman. It’s how my mama raised me.”

“She did a piss poor job then.”

“What did I tell you about talking shit about my mama?”

I smile at him over my shoulder. “Maybe if you stopped talking about fucking me every second, I’d learn to pay more attention.”

“I doubt that’ll help with your flakiness. I mean, shit, you were bouncing all over the place at Beef Tip’s office.”

Unlocking my door, I shove my bags inside. “Me?” I balk, nearly shutting the door on him before his foot jams it open. “You kept pissing him off.”

“So what? He’s just some guy.”

“He’s a killer.”

“So am I, babe,” he says, leaning against the door and grinning at me. “I’m not even retired like you.”

“Stop calling me babe or Apples or slice of sex. If not, I’ll give you a nickname.”

“I like Linguini. No, Spaghetti is better. Yeah, call me that and I’ll call you Apple Pie.”

Balling my fists again, I glare at him. Dino refuses to be afraid. I know he must feel pain, but he won’t back down even if I hurt him. The guy is incorrigible.