J. Carson Black - Dark Side of the Moon (Laura Cardinal Series, Book 2)

DARK SIDE OF THE MOON

J. CARSON BLACK

DARK SIDE OF THE MOON. Copyright 2006 by Margaret Falk.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or retransmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

Published by Breakaway Media

Tucson, Arizona (USA)

www.breakawaymedia.com

www.jcarsonblack.com

PRINTING HISTORY

First published by Signet, an imprint of New American Library, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc., mass market edition / 2006

Published in Germany by Blanvalet, an imprint of Random House Publishing Group GmbH, Munich, mass market edition / 2008

111219

To Liz Gunn

Sometimes, all you really need is a good whack between the eyes with a two-by-four and some damn good advice to follow it up.

Thank you.

Have you ever seen true evil? I mean, looked it in the face and recognized it for what it is? I have. And you know what? Its a face like any other.

THURSDAYPAHRUMP, NEVADA

Because of the mineral show, which he had not expected, Bobby Burdette had to stay in a little hole-in-the-wall called the Mercury Motel. The Mercury Motel had a pool full of screaming kids and a plate glass office that arrowed out toward the street in a trianglethe kind of space-age dump the Jetsons would have stayed in. The motel sign, a thermometer, lit up at night: red neon mercury climbing up to the boiling point over and over again.

At least that wasnt a lie; even in September, it was ninety degrees after the sun went down.

The Mercury Motel was situated between a defunct filling station and a date palm orchard. The dates fell over the fence into the parking lot and onto the wax finish of his classic Dodge ChallengerThe Mean Greenand got picked up by peoples shoes. At any given moment, there were a half dozen of them littering the walkway in front of the motel rooms like squashed cockroaches.

Bobby told himself he didnt have to put up with the poor accommodations and the sickening smell of dates much longer. If things worked out the way he expected, hed never have to stay in a shithole like this again.

There was a good side to Pahrump, though, one he hadnt considered when he blew into town earlier today. For one thing, the plate glass office had nickel slots.

And the town had a whorehouse.

And it was legal. It was called The Bambi Ranch.

Bobby planned to bag one of those bambies.

Hed seen it on a cable show once, how the girls would parade into the parlor and line upblondes, brunettes, redheads, wearing different outfitsand you could pick the one you wanted just like at Red Lobster. There was something about it that just got to him, somewhere deep. Like that feeling you get in your gut when you ride a rollercoaster.

The sun was going down below the far mountains when he drove The Mean Green out of the Mercury Motel parking lot, the sun flashbulbing him in the eyeballs. For such a little town, the traffic in Pahrump was hellish mostly crawling RVs with satellite dishes on their roofs, the street lined with booths and a herd of people on the sidewalks, sometimes walking right out in front of him.

For a minute he wondered if The Mean Green was the right car to be seen in. The lime green paint and chrome wheels werent exactly camouflage. But everyone was so busy looking at cases full of minerals or watching their own feet, they probably wouldnt notice a circus driving through.

Besides, he liked how ballsy it washiding in plain sight.

The Bambi Ranch was out of town; he knew that was a requirement of all legal brothels in Nevada. He was surprised at the size of the layoutthere were five narrow buildings, like temporary offices they had at schools, only this was no school. All of them were painted lavender. As he drove over the cattle guard into the parking area, he noticed an airstrip to his right, the windsock sticking straight out like a condom. There was also a satellite dish on a balding Bermuda lawn surrounded by a white picket fence.

The place was lit up like a Christmas tree. Tiny white bulbs strung up in the Aleppo pines, colored lights all over the front office, and not the kind you got at Kmart eitherthese were professional quality, the kind youd find on the front of the casinos in Vegas. All that light power on these little sorry buildings. Like the crown jewels on a ten-dollar hooker.

Hed wanted to savor the event, but it didnt turn out that way. The women outnumbered the men, and they sure didnt line up like hed expected. More like they converged on him like sharks on chum.

You want me, dont ya sweetness? a handsome woman in her thirties said, practically getting him in a half nelson. She smelled of heavy perfume, breath mints and gin, but her skin was smooth and her boobs were huge.

Another one said, With me, you buy one, you get one free. Redeemable any time. This chick was younger, with black hair and purple lips. Pale as a fishs belly.

Then there was the brooding Russian woman who tried to smile. At least he thought she was Russian. Pale, washed out, sad. Most of them, though, they flounced and strutted and ran their fingers through his hair. When the door opened and another man came in, three of them made a beeline for him. They reminded him of the catfish he used to feed as a kid at Lake Mead: boiling up the water, their mouths avid.

The one who remained was the young chick. She had a stud in her eyebrow and looked kind of skeletal, but her skin was like cream. And she didnt reek of booze like the older ones. She caught his look and nodded to the menu on an easel near the countera list of services and their prices, all nicely written up in fancy calligraphy on white poster board. He opted for basic cable, so to speak, and paid the bored little man behind the counter in cash.

The Goth girl motioned him to follow her. She led him outside into the warm night, across the cracked walkway to the first trailer, down a hallway to a small dark room, paneled with walnut veneer.

The minute they got through the door, she removed her clothes. If you blinked, you missed it. She had on boots that zipped up the insides and a flimsy skirt with an elastic waist band. Zip, zip, and the boots were off, and then she shimmied out of the skirt and her bottom half was naked as a jaybird. She clasped her arms around his neck and pulled him down on the bed without a word.

It wasnt as fun as he thought it would be. In fact, he found his mind drifting, thinking about tomorrow and all the days after that. Playing it out in his head. He seemed to hear her from a distance, moaning and groaning, doing her level best to get him to finish up.

But he wasnt into it. It wasnt anywhere near as excitingas dirtyas he had expected it to be. The whole idea had been huge in his mind, but thisthis was paltry. And so his mind wandered to something he saw on the road on the way up here today: an abandoned airplane hangar baking in the desert sun. The Goth woman whimpered about how good he washe noticed she worked herself into more of a lather the longer it took, like jockeys waling on their horses as they neared the wirebut his mind was on the checkpoint trailer at the California border, the two Homeland Security agents in their protective vests and their dark clothing, the sun bouncing off their sunglasses, the big German shepherd between them.

He liked their look. Easy enough to approximate. All he needed was a haircut and the right kind of sunglasses.

Ohmy God!

Bobby wondered if he should fake it like his girlfriend did, or just quit. But he was stubborn; he wanted his moneys worth. So he decided to put his mind to it, and with intense concentration, managed to put it over the top, just as the egg timer by the side of the bed rang.