Her foot is on the pedal and her head is in the stars. Joy was a Bettie Page styled hottie on a mission. After a chance encounter with Nick Joy finds a kindred spirit but is she just too much for him to handle?
Hang on tight, this girl drives as...
I woke from a dead sleep dreaming the cat was crying for food. I bolted upright in the bed, but Henry had taken up refuge with Joy. The sly devil was probably comfortable on the end of her bed. I lay back for a moment, still exhausted from the day before. I reached for my phone but grabbed the Beretta instead. Oh yeah, I remembered the middle of the night rummaging. Wolf-man Jack and his cue ball-headed pistol-packing hombre. I had to get my phone off of the kitchen counter.
Quickly I dressed in practically the same thing I had on the night before, sans button over shirt, and decided to check on Joy. I checked, and there were no messages. I could call Joy to see if she was up or just walk around and knock. Fuck it; I thought I'll walk. If she's not up, I'll get us breakfast. That way, I know we'll get at least one meal in for the day.
She answered the door with Henry draped across her left shoulder. She was still in her undies, I presumed. Her shapely legs stuck out from beneath a long nightshirt. Her hair was pulled back, pinned out of her face, and that damn cat was purring to beat the band. That sack of shit, no loyalty at all.
"Morning," she said softly.
"Hen slept on the bed and kept me company."
"Yeah, I'll bet he did."
I reached out and ran a rough stroke down the red rat bastard's back. He didn't budge.
"Come on," she said.
"I'm making some coffee."
ओह! यह छवि हमारे सामग्री दिशानिर्देशों का पालन नहीं करती है। प्रकाशन जारी रखने के लिए, कृपया इसे हटा दें या कोई भिन्न छवि अपलोड करें।
I started to follow her into the apartment when I noticed two new cars in the garage.
"When did you pick those up?"
"Yesterday," she said nonchalantly.
"That was the easiest score yet. The cars had a fucking Spot signal!" She said delightedly, putting my lazy cat down onto the futon and then returning to show me the cars.
"What's a spot signal?"
"Oh, Spot is a security and commodities insurance tracking company. Spot is usually a reinsurer for shipping companies when items are being transferred between locations on high-end products like these. They insure the product over and above the common carrier, whoever that might be. I noticed the addendums in Davenwood's bill of sale. These babies were overinsured. Know why?" She asked, biting her lower lip in anticipation of my wrong answer.
I looked over the cars. They were nice, sure, two Porsches. I looked them over a little more carefully. One was an older, much older, early eighty's model. The other a rare one, a GT3. Didn't see those all too often. The GT3 sure, was worth a pretty penny, but the other one, nice, sure, but over-insured? Why?
"I don't know Joy unless they are part of a collection or something."
She tilted her head slightly to the left, still smiling in mocked surprise at her collected knowledge.
