Dirty Sex (15 page)

Feebly, Ryan stood and joined me. He found a bandana in his

duffle bag and tied it around his forehead to keep his hair back.

• 108 •

Dirty Sex

“Come on, gorgeous. Give me a hand.” I palmed a bar and handed

it to him.

“You’re brutal.”

“I want a shower and some sleep and a drink.” Dreams of cool

water and soft sheets were already filling my head. A naked girl would

complete the picture, but I didn’t want to get carried away. “I can’t have

those things until we finish.”

“Bro.” That meant he agreed.

We began the laborious process of stacking the gold in one of the

holes. Each bar was wrapped in a piece of cloth, duct taped shut, and

numbered. Ryan crouched by the hole and I carefully lobbed the bars

into the dirt next to him. I tried really hard not to hit him.

“Shit, Cooper.” He jumped out of the way for the third time. “I

swear if you hit me I’ll kill you.”

“If you kill me, you’ll have to bury my body.” I tossed another bar

at him. “Do you really want to dig another hole?”

“Just be careful, all right?”

“Okay.” Another bar landed with a spray of dirt. “Stack faster.”

Ryan’s cell phone rang. “Shit.” He dug it out of his pocket. “You

here?” It had to be Reese. “Yeah, cool. Fifteen minutes.”

“Reese?” I asked after he hung up.

“Yeah. Let’s unload and you can go pick up her half. I’ll stack this

while you’re gone.” Worked for me. Five minutes later, the remaining

half of the bars were scattered on the ground around the hole. Ten

minutes after that, I got back to the highway. Reese was parked on the

shoulder looking the part of lost girl. I parked behind her.

“You look like hell,” Reese kindly informed me. Sure, I was

sweaty and dirty, and I smelled like dirty sweat, but I thought it was a

little unnecessary to point it out.

“Thanks. Open the trunk.” I was all business. Shower, drink, sleep,

shower, drink, sleep. I just had to keep my goals in mind.

“Here are your room keys.” Reese handed me two red plastic key

cards. “We’re at the Wynn. In the Tower Suites. It’s on the Strip.” All of

which meant nothing to me.

“Just help me move the gold.” I pocketed the cards.

“You’re a little uptight.” Dutifully, Reese started moving gold

from the trunk of her Mercedes into the 4Runner. Hers were wrapped

like Ryan’s except the numbers were written in green instead of black.

• 109 •

AShley BArtlett

“I’m tired and hot and sore. I just want to get this shit finished.” I

turned around to grab more gold and she was right behind me.

“Maybe you should get a massage at the hotel.” Somehow, her

hands ended up pressed against my lower back. “You’re tense.”

Damn, that felt good. I had to bite my lip to keep from moaning.

Hopefully, she couldn’t see that in the dark. “Of course I’m tense. Stop

that. We need to get this finished.” I stepped around her and continued

loading.

“You are such an ass.”

“Took you long enough to catch on.” We finished working in

silence after that. Reese didn’t seem too talkative.

“So I guess I’ll see you guys in a couple hours.”

“Yep.” I immediately got back in the SUV and retraced my steps.

When I pulled up, Ryan was just starting to bury the gold.

It took us the better part of an hour to unload the second set of

bricks, stack them in the second hole, and fill it with dirt.

“We should clean up.” I dug around in the mound of gear in the

4Runner until I found the larger containers of water.

“Clean up what?” Ryan looked at me like I was crazy.

“Us. If we walk into a hotel looking like this we’ll draw too much

attention to ourselves.”

“Oh, okay.” Ryan took the shoulder holster off and stashed the

gun properly. Then he uncapped a gallon bottle of water and poured it

over his head. The water ran down his face collecting dirt and leaving

streaks behind. With a shake, he flung the damp hair out of his eyes.

“Your turn.” Before I could move, he dumped the remaining half gallon

of water over my head.

I screamed like a girl. “Asshole.” The water ran down my hair

into my ears and eyes. It went down the back of my grubby shirt and

collected in the waistband of my underwear. Ryan was already dying of

laughter. I felt surprisingly good.

“Was that what you had in mind?” He stripped off his shirt and

used it like a towel on his hair and face.

“Not entirely.” I followed suit with my shirt. “I’ll get you back

though.”

“Sure you will.” He was totally mocking me. “You ready to go?”

• 110 •

Dirty Sex

“Yep. I want first shower.” I called dibs.

“I don’t care.”

Ryan drove the rest of the way. He seemed to know where he was

going so I just watched in a semi-comatose state until we pulled up to

the private entrance.

❖

Eighteen hours later, I woke up. It was already dark again. Wearing

only my boxer briefs, I padded out to the main room of the suite. Below

me, the Las Vegas Strip flashed and blinked and screamed. I pressed

against the cool glass to see it all. Our room was dark and quiet. I

wondered for a second where the twins were until I heard movement

behind me.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Reese asked softly.

“In sort of a corporate America kind of way, yeah.”

She chuckled at my response. “You want some champagne?”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” I spun around and leaned back against

the window.

“I’ll pour it if you put on a shirt.”

I glanced down at the expanse of skin that was showing. “If you

insist.” I let out a big sigh and went to find a shirt. A minute later, I

reemerged wearing tight jeans and an oxford shirt with a single button

done. Reese was still in front of the expansive windows. A flute of

champagne dangled from her long fingers and another stood behind her

on a low table. Mine, I assumed.

“Where’s your brother?” I joined her.

“He’s still crashed. Did you guys sleep at all on the drive?”

“For a couple hours. Before that, the last time we slept was before

the party.”

“No wonder you were so tired.” Reese turned to look at me. The

gaudy lights from outside reflected in weak imitations of color across

her face and chest. She pushed her hair back and took a slow drink

of champagne. Girl was sexy. She knew it. I searched for something,

anything that would distract me.

• 111 •

AShley BArtlett

“So, uh…you think he’ll come after us?” I gathered the courage to

ask. I knew the answer, but I wanted someone else to say it.

“Christopher?” she asked. I nodded. “If you took the time to put

thirty-four million in gold bars in a wall and someone stole it, would

you go after them?”

“Fuck, yeah. But, technically, it is your money,” I pointed out.

“He thinks he’s entitled to it or something.”

“Why?”

“I’m not sure really. I think he helped my mom get it in the first

place.”

“So? It’s from some business she ran, right?”

“I guess.” Reese stared out the window. “You want to go walk

around?”

“Sure.”

“You’ll need to button up your shirt.” She dragged two fingers

down my bare stomach. My boxer briefs got suddenly wet. I’d need to

change those.

“You ask me to put on clothes and now you want them buttoned?

You’re so demanding.” I went to find shoes.

“Where are we going to go?” Reese asked me in the elevator.

“You tell me.” She looked at me like I was crazy. “I’ve never been

to Vegas, but you have, right?”

“Oh, yeah. I guess.”

Either she had or she hadn’t. Maybe she’d gotten really trashed or

something and didn’t remember.

“So you can show me around then?” I slung a casual arm around

her shoulders as we cruised down the street. Surprisingly, she didn’t

punch me. She didn’t even move it.

“Sure. Whatever.”

A mile later, we stood in front of what was supposed to be a

spectacular water show. I leaned against the wide railing next to Reese

“So these are the Bellagio fountains?”

“In all their glory.” Her sarcasm was duly noted.

“They seem so exciting in movies.”

“I think they improve with alcohol consumption.” Reese was so

smart.

• 112 •

Dirty Sex

“Want to find out?” I couldn’t think of anything better to do. “We

could get trashed and walk around. That fake Eiffel Tower will be way

cooler.”

“You make it sound like Disneyland.”

“I think Vegas is supposed to be like Disneyland, but for big kids.”

Reese looked around, but I guess she didn’t see much because she

shrugged and said, “Why not?” Then she took off through the crowd.

So I did the logical thing. I followed her.

I probably should have asked what she was looking for.

❖

Drunk Reese was awesome. She couldn’t walk a straight line to

save her life, and she couldn’t focus on a single subject longer than

thirty seconds, yet her speech was impeccable.

“I am not entirely sure if that is a good idea.” Reese clung to

my arm to stay upright as we stumbled back to our hotel. Navigating

through people, around trees, and past the sidewalk vendors peddling

beer merchandise was apparently far more than she could handle.

“Nope, it is.”

“Cooper, I believe we are intoxicated and should not engage in

certain pursuits.”

“Are you trying to sound like a pompous ass?” I genuinely wanted

to know. “I love it. Really. It’s like you’re compensating for not being

able to function at all.”

“I am perfectly capable of functioning.”

“Really?” She nodded emphatically. “Then let’s do it.”

“Oh, fine. Now will you open the door?”

Belatedly, I realized that we were in front of our door and that

Reese couldn’t unlock it. I took the key card and slid it through the

reader.

“No, wait for the red light.”

“That’s why it’s not working. You wait for the green light.” I

pushed the door open.

“Oh. Well.” She grasped about for something to say. “Thank you.”

Then she sashayed into the room.

• 113 •

AShley BArtlett

“Where the hell have you guys been?” Ryan was perched on the

small desk with a handgun tucked into his waistband.

“Where the hell have you been?” Reese countered.

“Put that away.” I pointed to the gun. “Why the fuck do you need

that?”

“What? This makes you nervous?” He pulled it out, waved it

around, and tucked it back into his pants. “Well, I’ve been fuckin’

nervous. So deal. You guys have been gone forever and neither of you

were answering your phones.”

“Damn, Ryan. Calm down.” I put up my hands in surrender. “And

put the gun away, please.”

“I don’t know why they freak you out so much. You’re a better

shot than I am.” He was right, but just because I could shoot like a

cowboy didn’t mean I liked guns. I didn’t see why he had to bring that

shit in the first place. Ryan took the gun and put it back into the small

safe on top of five gold bars.

“It’s a machine made to kill people.” Exasperated, I fell back onto

the designer sofa. We’d had this conversation before.

“Hey, Ryan?” Reese collapsed next to me. “Guess what we’re

doing?”

“How drunk are you?” he asked in response.

“Suitably,” she said.

“What does that mean?” I’d never been suitably drunk in my life.

Reese ignored me. “Ryan, I said, guess what we’re doing?”

“Getting married?”

“No. We tried. It’s illegal here.” She wasn’t exactly telling the

truth. We’d been walking down the strip, and I asked where all the

chapels were and Reese said she didn’t know. That wasn’t exactly

trying. “We are going swimming.”

“No, you’re not.” Ryan sounded the voice of reason.

“Sure we are.” I backed Reese up. It was my idea after all.

“No, you’re not.”

“Ryan, we are.” I used my serious tone.

“Not happening.” His serious tone was better. Maybe the deep

voice helped.

“Yeah, huh,” Reese brilliantly contributed.

• 114 •

Dirty Sex

“Come on, Ryan,” I whined. “Why not?”

“You’re both drunk,” he said.

“If we keep annoying you, will you give in?” I didn’t think he’d

actually go for that.

“Not even a little bit.”

“Come on.” Reese jumped up and immediately fell down.

“Definitely not now.”

“Is it weird that I’m totally attracted to her right now?” I asked

Ryan.

“Yes.”

“Let’s go swimming,” I said again like it was a new idea.

“No. The pool is probably closed and my sister is about to pass

out.” And then she did.

“Damn.”

• 115 •

• 116 •

Dirty Sex

Your sister sure knows how to pick accommodations.” After

two days, we’d taken full advantage of the disgustingly

opulent hotel Reese had chosen. Mostly, that meant Reese and I had

gone shopping for Ryan. Weird, but we liked to dress him. Ryan knew

his marijuana, he knew computers, he knew wine, and he even knew

a little Spanish, but he didn’t know shit about clothes. After the age