Ghosts, Matt Rogers [reading the story of the .txt] 📗

bun together.

In a frighteningly good Eastern European accent, she said, ‘You think this will work?’

‘Oh, yeah,’ King said, looking her up and down. ‘It’ll work.’

Slater said, ‘I’m worried you’re going to ask us for protection fees.’

She smirked.

She carried herself like a barely suppressed psychopath, which was crucial for the shtick. Shoulders back, chin held high, a certain unhinged venom in her eyes beneath an icy exterior.

King said, ‘Just be careful you don’t win an Oscar.’

The four of them gave each other the once-over, pondering whether anything had been missed, but there was little else to cover.

They wished each other good luck, and then moved out in three separate parties, taking cars from the garage, leaving the limo in the shadows where it belonged.

Alexis alone.

Violetta alone.

King and Slater together.

20

Alexis felt her hands shaking.

She let them.

Best to get all the nerves out before it was showtime.

She sat behind the wheel of a tiny grey Toyota Yaris hatchback. It was their daily driver, and perhaps the most unassuming car money could buy, which was the point. Best not to bomb around Vegas in luxury supercars until the heat was off them. Alexis had little idea about exactly how much heat was on them, but King, Slater and Violetta figured it wasn’t a risk worth taking, at least for a couple of months.

Which was notable, given their mutual propensity for risk.

Now she trawled the streets on the immediate outskirts of the Strip. Not close enough to the centre to be gridlocked with traffic, but busy enough to have a police presence.

She found what she was looking for within thirty minutes of leaving the estate.

On the east side of the University of Nevada campus — the far side of the Strip based on their position in The Ridges — she spotted a LVMPD squad car parked on the shoulder, facing a quiet stretch of Tropicana Avenue. There was a cop behind the wheel, and as she drove the Yaris closer to the vehicle she made out a mop of brown hair and a young, slender face. It was a guy, almost certainly in his twenties, and he was in uniform.

He was on his own.

Alexis inched over the speed limit as she got closer to the parked sedan, and then well and truly stepped on the accelerator.

She flew by, twenty above.

Then she slowed, and watched the rear view mirror, and waited.

She counted out the seconds.

One.

Two.

Three.

The clock kept ticking.

Now she was hundreds of feet away, and still nothing. Maybe the guy was lazy, or maybe he’d spotted her behind the wheel and opted to leave her alone, but it rattled her. She knew it wasn’t a big deal in the grand scheme of things, but this was her first attempt at anything close to reconnaissance, and her confidence banked on momentum. If she failed here, she’d just fail elsewhere, and then she’d be useless to the mission and—

Lights.

In the rear view.

Flashing red and blue.

She breathed out.

The timing was perfect. Still headed east, she waited for the squad car to catch up, waited until it was right on her tail. Then she waved recognition in the rear view mirror and turned off Tropicana Avenue into a quieter side street. She pulled into the largely empty parking lot of the Paradise Recreational Centre and sat with her hands in her lap and her window down until the cop decided to lever himself out of his vehicle.

He left the lights on as he got out and walked up to her driver’s door.

Alexis had been a civilian a month ago. She knew all the rules about police stops. Don’t make unnecessary conversation with the officer at risk of incriminating yourself. Answer each question honestly and make no excuses, because excuses are effectively admissions. There’s also the fifth amendment right to refuse to answer most questions, which is smart to implement if you think you’re being unfairly targeted.

She was going to have to break all of them today.

The officer stopped by the sill. ‘Ma’am, could I see some ID, please?’

She turned and looked up at him with puppy-dog eyes, then hunched her shoulders, pushing her breasts together. ‘What did I do?’

‘You’re unaware why I pulled you over?’

‘I’m honestly not sure,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘You were speeding. Do you know how fast you were going?’

‘It can’t have been far over.’

‘Do you have a good reason for being in a hurry?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘I’m not in a hurry.’

She smiled up at him.

His nameplate read A. WARD.

She said, ‘What’s your name?’

‘I’m Officer Ward of the—’

‘First name,’ she said. ‘You know, if it’s not too forward…’

‘Alan,’ he said, which didn’t seem like part of the script.

Good, she thought. He’s not completely rigid.

‘Alan,’ she said. ‘I like that name. I’m Alexis.’

‘Your ID, Alexis?’

‘Of course.’

She handed over the driver’s licence Alonzo had express shipped to Violetta back when they’d first settled in Vegas. All their last names were different on their IDs, but they’d kept their first names intact. There were a thousand Jasons and Wills who knew each other across the country, and there was a blanket of suppression over their new identities anyway.

‘Alexis Wingate,’ he said, turning the ID over in his fingers, still hovering by the sill. ‘Have you been drinking, Ms. Wingate?’

She rolled her eyes. ‘It’s ten in the morning.’

‘That’s not an answer.’

‘No,’ she said. ‘I haven’t been drinking.’

She looked him up and down with interest.

She said, ‘I would be if you were buying.’

He met her gaze, which is what ruined his chances. He didn’t have a hope of remaining professional.

He stifled a laugh and leant down and put his elbows on the windowsill.

Their faces were a foot apart.

‘Listen,’ he said. ‘You try that with every cop who pulls you over and sooner or later you’re going to get arrested for it. You’re skirting on the edges of bribery. You’re lucky I’m nice.’

‘How nice?’ she said.

‘Nice enough to let you off with a warning,’ he said, handing her ID back. ‘Not nice enough to risk getting fired. As tempting as the offer is.’

She