Damned if he needed anything else to go wrong with this job. He had two kids, hopefully alive, but no woman. The bitch had double-crossed him; the grab hadn’t gone down like he’d instructed. The email he got on his BlackBerry just seconds ago indicated that as far as she was concerned, the job was finished: “Your money’s at the P.O. box. Get out of town and don’t come back.”
Like hell.
Wes turned down the gravel path to his cabin. First thing he needed to do was get off the road. He’d paid Fletch the money he owed him for his help, though not as much as Wes had promised him. Hell, even if the setup wasn’t right, the bastard should’ve been able to grab Keeley. That’d been his only job. In Wes’s estimation, if a man couldn’t take down a woman, he wasn’t much of a man. Stupid prick.
Wes parked in front of his cabin and turned the ignition off. Twisting around, he eyed the unconscious kids. He reached out a hand and touched the pulses at their necks. Yeah, both still beating. At least that was one thing that hadn’t got messed up.
Weird that they were twins when they didn’t even look related. One had blond hair; the other one had black hair … the color of her mother’s. The dark-haired one would be going to some people in Georgia. He’d found somebody who was willing to pay five thousand more than what the Florida people had promised. Thirty thousand had a nicer ring to it than twenty-five.
The blond one was going to bring him more than double what the dark-haired one had. With the hundred thousand he’d gotten for the grab, he was going to be sitting pretty for a long time.
First, he had a call to make.
Wes pressed a key on his cellphone. She answered on the first ring in that haughty voice he hated. “I told you not to call me.”
“You’re going to pay. Nobody double-crosses me and gets away with it.”
She laughed. The bitch had the nerve to laugh at him!
“I did pay you. With that kind of money, you can find plenty of women to do anything you want. And I got what I wanted. We’re even.”
His teeth ground so hard his jaw ached. “We ain’t even and you know it. I’ll be back. You’re going to get me what you promised or else.”
He ended the call before she could say anything else. Wouldn’t matter what she said. He wanted what he wanted. And he had wanted Keeley Fairchild for years.
In high school, she’d been focused on other things, never dated. Not that he’d ever asked. She wouldn’t have anything to do with him or any of the other boys who’d panted after her. She was always too serious, had her head in a book, or was busy practicing for track. But her body … Wes hardened at the mental image. Keeley’s hot-damn body was the kind boys dreamed of and men salivated over.
After high school, he’d tried a few times to get her to go out with him, but she’d always turned him down. She’d always been nice about it, though, and he figured she was just shy. Then what she’d do but up and marry that rich bastard Stephen Fairchild. What ever good feelings he’d had about Keeley had been lost. Most everybody knew Fairchild couldn’t keep his pants zipped. Wes figured Keeley had gotten what she deserved.
Things were different now. Fairchild’s ass was ashes, and Wes had been dreaming and salivating way too long. When he got back to town, the waiting would be over.
First things first … get rid of her brats. Other than getting a nice chunk of money, the only satisfaction this job gave him was the knowledge that the double-crossing bitch would be pissed he hadn’t dropped the kids where she’d told him to go.
Wes snorted. Like he was going to take orders from a woman.
Once he took care of his transactions, he’d lay low and enjoy his rewards for a while. Let the bitch get comfortable, think he’d forgotten about her. He’d be back and show her that nobody double-crosses Wesley Tuttle and gets away with it. She’d either pony up the other part of the bargain or he’d be announcing to the world just who was responsible for Keeley Fairchild’s misery. Wouldn’t the good citizens of Fairview be surprised?
No Chance is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
A Ballantine Books Mass Market Original
Copyright © 2010 by Christy Reece
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Ballantine Books, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
BALLANTINE and colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.
eISBN: 978-0-345-51779-1
www.ballantinebooks.com
v3.0
Table of Contents
Cover
Other Books by this Author
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Acknowledgments
Copyright
No Chance Page 35
