Read Detour to Apocalypse: A Rot Rods Serial, Part Two for Free Online Page B

Angel’s pistol and then did as he was asked. Wooster grabbed his hands and slapped on the cuffs. The clicking sounded strangely loud in the vacant lot. “Good. Now go on and lie down on your belly. Won’t be comfortable, but you won’t have to stay there long.”
    “I suppose not,” the guard murmured.
    He dropped down, resting his belly on the cement stairs. Angel pulled back the door, revealing the bare hall. Roscoe checked his wristwatch. Betty was going to play her part soon, and they would need to be there in time to meet her. He looked back at the parking lot, as the Rolls Royce pulled in. The Captain manned the wheel, while Felix sat in the passenger seat. Roscoe and Angel had parked in front of the Sandpiper. They had planned the placement of the cars perfectly. Putting Felix this close to the operation was the only part Roscoe didn’t like―but they couldn’t leave the kid alone. After the heist was finished, they had to leave Vegas quickly, and they wouldn’t have time to pick him up from the Oasis Motel.
    Roscoe held up his hand in greeting and Felix waved from the window. Wooster, Angel, and Roscoe entered and headed down the hall. Wooster dug into his satchel and pulled out his Thompson submachine gun. He let the bag dangle over his shoulder, carrying the Thompson in his meaty hands as he walked down the hall. Angel and Roscoe stayed ahead. Angel had his pistol at his side and Roscoe kept his hands free.
    The stairwell leading to the Sandpiper’s basement lay right before them, with three guards ready to protect it. They had the lean look of dogs who had been caged for a long time. One, a guy with a pencil-thin moustache, had a rifle leaning on the wall behind him. The other two packed shotguns. They had a small table out and were playing cards, a stack of money resting on the green felt. The cards fell and the money exchanged hands, but none of the guards paid much attention to the game. Roscoe and his friends wouldn’t get closer without attracting their attention.
    They all knew it. Wooster stopped walking, his boots pausing on the tiled floor. Angel and Roscoe waited. They couldn’t hang out in the hall forever. Roscoe checked his watch. His heart pounded, a single beat that sounded like cannon shot. Betty should have made her appearance a minute ago. Roscoe stared at Angel and pointed to his watch. Angel nodded. There wasn’t a thing they could do. Roscoe looked into his satchel, where his sawed-off rested. If they went loud now, it might summon more guards, and they wouldn’t be able to leave.
    The far door opened and Betty emerged. She’d dolled herself up for the role she had to play, now sporting a lime green cocktail dress with chiffon edges and extra lipstick. The guards stared at her. Betty pushed up her glasses and smiled as she approached. “Excuse me, fellows. I think I’m lost.” She rested a hand on her purse strap and walked down the hall. Her high-heeled shoes on the tile sounded like a metronome. “This doesn’t look like the way to the casino to me.”
    The guards stood. The largest, a fellow who looked like a football player mixed with a grizzly bear, held out his hands and spread his thick fingers. “That’s right, ma’am. This ain’t a place you should ought to be. You should turn around.”
    “Ma’am?” Betty asked. “I think ‘miss’ is more appropriate, buddy.”
    “All right, miss.” The one with the pencil moustache stood up. His cigarette moved up and down in his lips. “You say you’re lost? What are you looking for?”
    Betty walked over to them. She had their complete attention. “Well, I was thinking of going to the buffet. Grab a little bite to eat for breakfast. But maybe I ought to watch my figure more.” She folded her hands. “You guys seem to do a good job of that. You’re in great shape.” She smiled a debutante’s smile. A single bead of sweat glistened on her pale forehead. He knew she must be as scared as he was― she couldn’t