"David Robbins - Blade 13 - Vengeance Strike" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robbins David L)

"Then why don't you slide on over here and we can start some serious
cuddling?"

He made a pretense of gazing out the windows. "I don't want the cops
to see us."

"Been picked up once or twice, huh?"

"Yeah."

"No problem. I'm staying at the Royale. Why don't we go there and get
down and dirty?" the man asked, and smiled wickedly.

"I'm all yours."

The man beamed, and drove the seven miles to the Royale in record
time. He braked near the entrance, and hurried around to open the
passenger door as a valet came toward the car.

"Want me to park it for you, Mr. Webster?"

"Yes, son, I do," Webster responded.

As gracefully as possible, Webster's passenger slid out and stood,
bestowing a friendly look at the valet. He really didn't care who saw him.
The police, after all, would want to question a supposedly glamorous
female suspect. Never in a million years would anyone regard him with
suspicion once he resumed his current assigned guise.

"Hello, ma'am," the valet said huskily.

"Hi, cutie," he said, giving the boy a thrill. He let Portly Butt take his
arm and escort him to the elevator. Thankfully, an elderly couple rode up
with them and his supper kept his eager paws to himself.

The room turned out to be 504. Typical of the Royale, it was tastefully
plush.

"Now we can get down to business," Portly Butt said happily after
flicking on the light.
 "Can't a girl have a drink first?" he asked.

"Sure thing, sweet cheeks." Portly Butt hurried to a small bar. "What
would you like?"

"A Bloody Flesh."

"Never heard of it," Portly Butt said, looking over his shoulder. "Don't
you mean a Bloody Mary?"