"Smith, Anthony Neil - Two-Timing" - читать интересную книгу автора (Smith Anthony Neil)

"It's her cell phone."

Oh. Well. "Tell her it's Evan, okay? She just called me."

He watches the weight room door, sees cops pass by the windows in an unrecognizable zip as he listens to the low voices on the phone, the man saying, "Evan? Who the hell is Evan?"

Diana saying, "Just someone I know. Let me have the phone."

"How well do you know him? Really well? Better than me?"

"Please, Al, please."

The man's voice louder, the phone back at his ear, Evan guesses. "She can't come to the phone, Evan. Got a message?"

"I heard her. I heard everything you just said."

"Look, pal. Don't call me a liar."

"I heard her. She said to give her the phone, Al. How about you do what the lady asks?"

"Mind a question? You sleeping with her? She told you about me?"

Diana's voice, yelling, "We're going West on the highway. Just past the mall, towards Gulfport, brown Buick "

Line goes dead.

Evan slams the phone and rushes to his locker, no time for full uniform. Grabs a jacket, his gun, his helmet. Runs to his bike shouting that he needs help, a kidnapping, something. No one understands a word he says. He's out the door.

* * *

Al bangs the cell phone on the dashboard over and over, not harming either. He makes like he's going to slap Diana backhanded, and she flinches, but she knows he won't. He'll get loud, bang up stuff at the house, but with her Al's all threat. About the only good thing about him.

"Evan? How many more? Never mind, I don't care, that's fine." He stares out the window and nods, pats his pillowcase. He tosses the wig behind him. "Who am I kidding? This isn't a big score. We'd need a hundred more just to make it worth the effort."

Diana says, "Why don't I let you out here, and you run for it? I ought to. These little things, ATMs and car washes, that's like vampires sucking on pigs instead of people. It's wimpy, Al."

Al goes big eyed, O-mouthed, says, "Now you tell me? All of a sudden you've got a better idea? Maybe living off two guys, there's an idea for you."

"This sucks. I'm not your mom, but you're like a kid, whiny little snot. I'm just supposed to put up with it? We're done. I want my share, and then it's over. How about you let me out, you take the car, I go home and start over?"

He grips the bag tightly, and then he does it. He snatches her hair and she swerves, cars beside and behind honking, swerves back and veers close to the concrete divider. Al yanks, pushes Diana up, grunts. The guy in the car next to them is still honking, face wrinkled up like a horror flick baddie while he flips the bird.

"Let go!" Diana says, steering with her left hand, beating Al with her right.

"Soon as I leave, you'll have the cops on me. Think I'm stupid?" Al lets go. "Why do you want to make me crazy? That's not me at all."

* * *

Evan speeds through traffic, right down the painted lines, thinking it was a bad idea to ride the bike with shorts on, his jacket flapping and wind off the beach like a sand blast hitting his bare chest underneath. And Diana's clue? A Buick? He thinks, I check every Buick? Maybe they've turned off the road. This isn't going to work.