Jailbait

Jailbait

Excerpt from FLEE, by J.A. Konrath and Ann Voss Peterson

Also by the Authors

I
walked into my neighborhood bar, a fierce winter wind following me inside. It wasn’t my favorite watering hole, but it was within walking distance of my place, and I was so cold my balls were making clinking noises every step I took.

I stood at the entryway and paused, taking the place in. It was darkish, grimy, still smelling of cigarettes even though Chicago had banned smoking indoors years ago. The after-work crowd had dwindled down to the diehards—those without families to go home to.

I didn’t have a family of my own to go home to. I wasn’t looking to find one, either. They were expensive, messy, and needy. My presence at the bar was twofold. First, I needed a drink. Second, I hoped to get a little something-something. Nothing made the cold, winter nights easier than a little bit of strange.

I took a quick survey of the thirty or so patrons in the place, judging and discounting the women with rapid-fire glances.

With a guy. Too old. Ugly. Fugly. Chicken neck. Nasty birthmark. Fat. Bad teeth. Double chin. Missing an ear—Jesus Christ. With a guy. Fugly and too old. And—

Hello… who is this vision of loveliness?

I went in for the closer look. She was blond, perched on a barstool. Her skirt was far too short for the weather, and she had one leg crossed over the other, her foot ending in a red pump sporting a killer stiletto heel. I let my eyes drift upward. Nice rack, struggling to break free of the tight button-up shirt she wore, the first three buttons open. Lipstick that matched the shoes. And…

Jesus. Pigtails. That’s hot.

I swallowed, then took the seat next to her.

“Can I buy you a house?” I asked, leaning over.

She gave me a look as if she wasn’t impressed.

Not that I fell for it. Hard to get could be a lot of fun. “Well?”

She sighed, giving her chest a nice up and down bounce. “Start with a drink. If you don’t fuck that up, I’ll decide if you can stick around.”

I raised my hand for the bartender. “Can I get a Goose Island and three bottles of tequila for the lady?”

She peered at me under raised brows. “Rail booze?”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ll give you points for quantity. You’re lacking in quality.”

“Sorry. Wasn’t paying attention. I was looking at your boobs. Did you have a drink preference? I’ve found it all comes out looking the same.”

“I’ll bet.” She spun her stool and gave me her back.

I stood up, taking the opportunity to check out the top of her head.

She glanced back. “What the hell are you doing?”

I sat down again. “Checking out the view I hope to see later. I gotta say, I really dig the pigtails. Besides the naughty schoolgirl vibe, they’re also like handlebars for blowjobs.”

“You’re charming.” She rolled her big brown eyes. “The way herpes is charming.”

I winked. “Give me enough time to finish one drink, and if you aren’t completely charmed I’ll take off and never bother you again. Fair?”

Her lips pressed into a non-committal line. “Pour the tequila. I always was a sucker for a challenge.”

The Goose Island arrived, and I bugged the bartender for two chilled shots of 1800. Then I offered her my hand. “I’m Harry. Harry McGlade. Have we known each other long enough for me to get your name?”

“No. You can just call me babe, because I know you will anyway.” She gave me a quick, perfunctory handshake.

“Fair enough, babe. I gotta say, though, that it’s past seven pm, so if you were looking to hook up with some yuppie, they’ve all gone home. And dressed like jailbait, I’m guessing you did come to hook up. A lady doesn’t look this sexy if she’s just going out to get drunk. So I may be your last chance at a good evening. And while I like a challenge, I’m not into bitter and disinterested. So what can I do to push your defrost button for the next three minutes?”

She looked past me, focusing on something or someone near the door. When she glanced back, the cynicism was instantly gone and a smile teased the corners of her lips. She arched her back and leaned a little closer to me. “Thanks for the drink. I’ve just been having a few problems with men lately. Sorry to take it out on you.”

The shots arrived, along with a salt shaker and a bar napkin with two lime slices. I raised my glass. “Well, here’s to whatever asshole was stupid enough to give you problems and allow me a chance.”

She cast another look over her shoulder and picked up her Cuervo. “I hope you’re not one of those salt and lime people.”

“That depends. Have you ever done a body shot?”

She gave me a look that topped my best naughty-school-girl dreams. “Like this?” She opened one more button and exposed her cleavage, which looked like two boobs being pressed together. Then she dripped a line of tequila on her chest.

I rubbed the wedge of lime on her neck, licked that, and then trailed my tongue down her front.

Nothing smelled better than boobs. Except, maybe, boobs with tequila on them. I lingered for a bit, and after maybe two or three minutes she gently shoved me away.

“Now your turn,” I said, pouring my entire shot on my crotch.

She looked down and her smile grew. She splayed her fingers on my chest, then shimmied them down my body and cupped me with her hand. “You want to go where I can dry that off for you?”

“You mean like that corner over there?”

“I mean my place.”

“That corner’s a lot closer.”

“My place is a lot more private.”

“That corner can be private. I’ll drape my jacket over your head.”

“Maybe I want to dry off a little, too.” She arched her back a little more, sticking her tits out so far they brushed my chest.

I raised an eyebrow. “Is this going to cost me money? Because I’m okay with that, but my limit is thirty bucks.”

“No money. I just want to make you scream.”

“I’d scream if I took off your panties and found a dick. You don’t happen to be a pre-op transsexual, by any chance? Again, I’m okay with that, but I need fair warning. I don’t want to get an eye poked out.”

“I promise I’m all woman.”

“Fair enough. And that guy behind me that you keep glancing at. How does he figure into this little soiree?”

The woman backed off a bit. “What guy?”

“The mean motherfucker who is staring at me like he’s a starving lion and I’m a zebra with a limp. Does he belong to you?”

Her smile disappeared. She gave me a doe-eyed look, slipped off her bar stool, and draped an arm around my shoulders. “Look, I’ll be straight with you.”

“Straight is good. So is bi.”

“I’m in a spot here. I could really use your help, Harry.”

“Is he the aforementioned guy giving you problems?”

“Something like that.”

“Is he a cop?”

“No. God, no. I wish he was.”

“Did you know he’s got a gun on him? Shoulder holster, under his jacket.”

She skimmed her hand down my back. Cupping my ass, she rubbed her chest against me. If this didn’t happen to me so often, I might have been a tad bit suspicious.

Okay, I’m lying. This stuff never happened to me. But for some reason I wasn’t thinking clearly. There was a slight chance it could have been her boobs rubbing against me while she groped my ass.

“Please. I wasn’t kidding about going somewhere more private. You get me out of this, and I’ll do anything you want. Anything.”

“Anything? Because I’ve got a pretty active imagination.”

“Anything at all.”

“To be clear, we’re talking about sex, right?”

“Yes.”

“With each other?”

She nodded.

I leaned in closer. “What’s your name, babe?”

The woman whispered so close to my ear that I could feel her hot, moist breath, which was hot and moist. “I’m Tangi.”

“Yeah, you are. And what’s Rambo’s name?”

“I don’t know. He works for my old boyfriend.”

“Hired muscle, huh? You want to tell me about this old boyfriend of yours?”

Tangi didn’t respond.

I nodded and stood up. “Order two more tequilas. I’ll be right back.” I drained the pint of Goose Island, stepped away from the bar, and strolled over to the man Tangi had been looking at.

The guy had a few inches and about fifty pounds on me, and the scar tissue around his eyes and chin spoke of a former career in boxing or mixed martial arts. He widened his stance as I approached, letting his hands drop to his sides.

I stopped a foot away from him, offering a large smile. “Do I know you?” I asked.

The guy barely looked at me, keeping his focus on Tangi. “No. But if you’re smart, you’ll walk out of here. Right now.”

“I’m sure I’ve seen you someplace before. Pro wrestling? Maybe the boxing circuit?”

“Are you dense? I said leave.”

I snapped my fingers. “Wait! I got it! You were in that movie,
Anal Boys Gone Wild!
Man, the way you serviced that entire soccer team—I’m surprised you could still stand up afterward.”

Face reddening, the hulk looked at me for the first time. He pulled back one side of his jacket and flashed me the gun in his shoulder holster. “I’m giving you one last chance.”

“Wow,” I said. “That’s a big gun. But mine’s bigger.” In one blindingly fast move, I tugged the .44 out of my shoulder holster and pressed the barrel into the man’s crotch.