Double Strike (A Davis Way Crime Caper Book 3) Read Online Free Page B

one of the pools to the dogs, and be done with it.
    Bianca finished giving us our marching orders, which was more of an extensive shopping list than anything else, so we made a run for it. Her parting words: “David. Get dressed. You look ridiculous.”
    Fantasy and I shared a weary look in the elevator.
    “Think you’re going to be able to pull it off?”
    “I doubt it.”
    “It really only takes three minutes to get married, Davis.”
    I rested my head on the mirrored wall of the elevator and closed my eyes. “My half-plan is to see when they reschedule the Strike it Rich thing and go from there.”
    Fantasy and I were supposed to have attended an all-day training session today for our next assignment, the Strike it Rich shindig. To keep an eye on things. We were to have spent today orienting ourselves for it. The building catching fire and the hotel being evacuated at three this morning had nixed the orientation, and we were waiting for word on the reschedule. Which would probably interfere with the wedding. And if it didn’t, it would most certainly interfere with the honeymoon. And only the orientation would be rescheduled, not the Strike It Rich bash. It was set in solid rock crystal, and nothing stopped the casino train. This building could have burned to the ground this morning and somehow, someway, the Strike it Rich Sweepstakes would still start next weekend.
    “Do you think it’s a sign, Fantasy?”
    “Is what a sign?” We stepped off the elevator.
    “Lightning striking the building,” I said. “Do you think it’s a sign?”
    “A sign of what?”
    “That Bradley and I shouldn’t get married. This weekend.”
    “Davis. Lightning striking the building is a sign of weather. And nothing more.”
      
    *     *     *
      
    It was a Grand Theft Auto XIV showdown.
    Fantasy and I entered the bullpen of our 3B offices (B is for Basement) to find Baylor lost in a big bean bag chair and Thomas Sanders deep in another, neither of which we had room for or I’d ever laid eyes on, with Xbox One all over the flat screen. There were two empty pizza boxes and at least eight empty green bottles. At ten in the morning.
    “Where did you get an Xbox, Baylor?”
    “Target.”
    Fantasy stepped over them and went straight to control central, through a door on the right, to start knocking off Bianca’s chore list. The list started with La Prairie of Switzerland and ended with a partridge in a pear tree. Fantasy would order the restock of all Bianca’s cosmetics and skin care necessities by phone, then send a Bellissimo limo and an armed guard to New Orleans to pick it all up. Bianca wanted the exercise completed within a half hour. New Orleans is ninety miles away.
    I picked up an empty green bottle and waved it in Baylor’s face. He leaned around it and kept poking his game control thing. “Move, Davis.”
    “Are you drinking beer while you’re on the clock, Baylor, or are you letting this one drink beer?” I waved the bottle in Little Sanders’s direction.
    “It’s O’Doul’s, Davis. Non-alcoholic. Move .”
    I moved. To the wall outlet behind the television. The room went quiet.
    “Now.” I settled in beside Thomas. “Let’s talk.” I yanked a non-beer bottle out of his hand and passed it to my co-worker. Baylor, regaining a few of his senses, began a clean-up. Clank, clank, clank. I cleared my throat. “Your dad is very busy, Thomas. There’s a lot of damage to the building and the casino is closed. Do you get what a big deal that is around here?”
    He barely shrugged. Not his problem.
    “I need to know how you got here and why you’re here. Then I need to relay all this information to your dad.” I sat back and folded my arms across my chest. “Start talking.”
    “Dude.”
    “Thomas.” I held up a hand. “I’m not your dude. Call me Davis.”
    He was a bundle of energy, sitting on the edge of the cushion, his features animated, his eyes bright and busy, and he looked like he