Rules of Survival(27)

Just for the warmth…





Chapter Ten


“Friends” was a loose term when it came to con men. There were a few Mom considered trustworthy, but she made sure I knew that “trustworthy” only went so far. One of the most important of her rules—always remember there was no honor among thieves. Even your friends would sell you out if the price tag was right—not that I’d ever had friends.

I figured my best bet at getting some information on who Mick might be was Gerald Collins. I’d never met the guy, but Mom told me all about him. She knew him from time spent in Kansas City long before I was born. He’d retired from the game and had hoarded his stash to buy a beef farm in upstate New York. He was the nearest, and also the most off-the-radar, so naturally, he was our first stop.

“And what makes you think we can trust this guy?” It was early afternoon and Shaun had been on edge since we stepped off the bus. He insisted he wanted to call Patrick again, but every time I pointed out a pay phone on the way over to Gerald’s, he made up an excuse.

It wasn’t a safe place to stop.

Too many people around.

Patrick was probably sleeping…

He wouldn’t admit it, but he was rattled about what happened in the mall parking lot. He might not believe that Patrick was the one who ratted us out, but he couldn’t deny the facts.

“Trust is a relative term,” I said with an offhand wave. “He won’t narc on us, though. No way would he bring the cops that close to home.”

“Comforting,” Shaun huffed. He knocked twice on the screen door, then adjusted the hoodie to cover the shackles. “I hope this isn’t a mistake.”

“If it is, it wouldn’t be my first,” I said, trying to force a smile.

“I have no trouble believing that.” His demeanor was different today. Warmer somehow, and I liked it. There were actually points that I forgot I was shackled to a bounty hunter. I found myself laughing at his jokes and studying the lines of his face, committing them to memory. “It might end up being your last, though.”

“Wow. And you called me dramatic…?”

A few minutes later, a stooped old man appeared, cigar hanging from his lips and coffee cup in hand. Balding and covered with liver spots, he looked like a normal little old man—not a sexy mastermind who used to con rich women out of their millions. But he was. I’d heard stories. Mom used to tell me Gerald Collins was quite the James Bond type back in his day—whatever that meant.

He took one look at us, rolled his eyes, and started to close the door. “How many times do I gotta tell you people? I’m not converting—”

“Wait! We’re not here to convert you.” I jammed my foot in between him and the door just before it slammed shut. It crunched against my big toe and I bit back a scream.

The pressure on my foot eased. He didn’t open the door all the way, but he left enough room to eye us suspiciously through the crack. “What ya want?”

“My name is Kayla. You knew my mom. Melissa Morgan?”

His eyes grew wide. “You’re Mel Morgan’s kid?” He gave me the once-over—tip to toe. After a moment, he nodded and pulled the door open all the way. “Yeah. I can see it. Ya got the same eyes.”

I couldn’t help but smile. Hearing someone tell me I looked like Mom made me feel warm all over because I didn’t see it. Mom had been beautiful. Long silky brown hair, almond-shaped eyes, and a button nose. She always joked that her appearance was one of her biggest assets. She was cute. Innocent-looking. No one ever suspected a criminal mastermind when they saw her. And boy did she know how to work it.

Me? I saw myself as shifty-looking. Suspicious. I wasn’t one of those girls who peered into the mirror thinking they were ugly or too fat, but I didn’t have that innocent, little-girl-lost look like Mom had. I gave off more of the “Oh crap here comes trouble” vibe.

“Thanks,” I said.

“Don’t be thankin’ me. Those eyes are evil. Pure evil. Make the devil get up and dance, they could. Turn a priest to sin.”

Shaun snickered. I elbowed him hard and turned back to Gerald. “Mr. Collins, I hate to intrude, but I need your help.”

“Of course you do. And I have no desire to help you because it’ll only land me in a heap of trouble, but I will. Somehow you’ll talk me into it. That’s just the way you Morgan girls work…” He pushed the door open a bit wider and gestured us inside with a sigh. “Go ahead and take a seat—but don’t get too comfy. You’re not staying long.”

I heard the words clear as day, but the look in his eyes said differently. In that moment, I was sure we’d made the right decision coming here. He was complaining about Mom, but it was obvious he remembered her fondly. He was crotchety on the outside and totally gooey on the inside. Just what I needed.

I nodded and sank into the couch. Gerald eyed Shaun warily as he sat down beside me—ridiculously close.

“Go ahead and give the girl some room, why dontcha, boy? She ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

Shaun looked at me and I sighed. “That’s actually one of the reasons we’re here.” I pulled the hoodie aside and held up my hand. “Any chance you can help us get these off?”

At first he was amused. He snorted his coffee, sending droplets splattering across the coffee table between us, and laughed so hard he began to wheeze. It got to the point where he was turning bright red and gasping for air. For a minute I was sure he’d give himself a heart attack, or at the very least, pass out from lack of oxygen. Slapping a hand against his paint-covered overalls, he hooted. After he got himself under control though, his expression faltered and all the humor drained away.