Run For the Money Read Online Free Page A

another big boom sounded. Thunder? Another boom and a rattle against the side of the truck as hundreds of tiny buckshot pellets pierced the door. Slick spun his head and there was Roy at the top step of his diner, suddenly grown a spine and two balls and firing a sawed-off.
    Slick slammed a muddy foot down on the pedal. It slipped off for a second and the engine dipped then revved to life again when he reset his foot. Another blast sounded behind him and the bed of the truck took a scattering of pellets.
    When the truck cleared the mud of the parking lot it became clear he was down one tire. He pressed on. It took a few hundred yards to locate the wiper switch, but he did and he continued down the road toward Emma, scraping a rim along the rain-slick road to a stolen fortune.

CHAPTER 5
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    B o reached the two-lane road after ten minutes of climbing up and then sliding down the ridge; so slick it may as well have been lubed up for some anal.
    The rain was relentless. Fallen branches like whips fell from the trees. His jumpsuit was heavy, making him walk like an extra in Night of the Living Dead.
    Headlights ahead, making the curve. Step out into the lane, wave your arms, try not to look like a zombie.
    The car saw Bo and braked hard, front wheel locking and the back end fishtailing out. Bo ran backwards toward the safety of the tree line as the car slid past him as if on waterskis. The rear swung to the left then back right before slowing to a stop. The red brake lights reflected off the blacktop and the exhaust puffed tiny white clouds.
    Bo stepped slowly from the trees and approached the window. It spun down on an electric motor.
    “Sorry about that. I thought you saw me earlier,” said Bo.
    The boy behind the wheel was young. His eyes were still saucers and his fingers still clung to the wheel for dear life. He said nothing.
    “Listen, I was wondering if you could give ma ride into town. Not really the best night for a walk.”
    The boy turned to his right and Bo saw the girl seated next to him, equally young. Equally scared. A bottle of vodka, the cheap stuff, sat between her legs like she had given birth to it. A cigarette burned in her hand, but she held it in the telltale way of an amateur.
    The boy turned back to Bo. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
    “But, it’s raining like a mother out here, man.”
    “I know it’s . . . this is my dad’s car and . . .”
    Bo scanned the car up and down. BMW 3 series. Young kid. Nervous. Joyriding. Trying to impress the girl and hoping to get laid. Bo hated to cock block but . . .
    “Listen, kid, I’m not really asking. I’m telling.”
    “I really can’t. My dad would kill—”
    Bo ripped open the door. The boy flinched, the cold rain shocking him as much as the suddenly open door. Bo grabbed him by the sweater vest and pulled. The seatbelt caught and held him in. Bo snarled and leaned over him to undo the belt. The girl started screeching.
    “What the fuck, dude! Stop it! Cut it out! Brian! Oh my God!”
    The kid, Brian, was helpless. Bo pulled him from the car. With no weapon, all he had was intimidation.
    “I need your car, Brian. I’m sorry, but it has to be done. I need your clothes too.”
    Bo unzipped his jumpsuit. Brian’s muscles froze, confused by the rain, the strange man and his commands.
    “Now, Brian.” Bo lifted the sweater vest up over Brian’s head. It jogged Brian into helping. He started to strip.
    The new clothes were soon equally as wet as his old jumpsuit, but at least they didn’t say County Property on them. Brian stood on the middle white line in his boxer shorts, not how he intended to get to that state of undress tonight. Bo fit easily into Brian’s clothes. He’d always been skinny, average height. He was generic like a mannequin. His once-pretty face now used to scare a couple of kids on a dark highway at night.
    “What’s her name?” Bo asked Brian.
    “Valerie.”
    Bo leaned in the