Jane downed a sixth shot of rotgut and slammed the glass down on the counter, grimacing at the sensation of drinking what was essentially jet fuel. More than once she'd used her own brew to power Betty when the gas had run out. It was cheaper than the real stuff and allowed her to coax more speed out of the old girl, but it chewed through the gas tanks like acid. Tasted like it, too.
Someone tapped her on her shoulder and Tank's deep bass sounded close behind her.
'Deal's done, boss,' he rumbled, sounding nothing so much as bear with gravel for lungs. 'But Taglioni's boys are waiting out front with automatics. '
'Told ya,' she said with a slight slur in her voice. 'Fuckers are too greedy f'their own good.'
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