Low Pressure Read Free Page B

to picture a healthy version of him.
Son of a bitch
. It was Howard Lyston.
    There could be no mistake because beside him stood his wife, Olivia, looking as well put together as Dent remembered her. She was a pretty woman who took the time and trouble to stay that way. She was still trim, although her weight was distributed differently now, a little more around the middle. Her hair was lighter. The skin around her mouth and beneath her chin was looser than it had been nearly two decades ago. But her haughty expression was the same.
    Dent stared at them for several moments, then swiveled his head around. Gall was lurking in the doorway of his office, obviously watching to see how this scene would play out. Under Dent’s glare, he scuttled back into the office and closed the door. Dent had some choice words for him, but they could wait.
    He came back around and regarded the Lystons with contempt. “Is this a joke? If so, I fail to see the humor.”
    Olivia turned her head and spoke to the younger woman standing on the other side of her. “I told you this was a dreadful mistake.”
    The younger woman took two steps toward him. “It’s no joke, Mr. Carter. We need to get to Houston.”
    “There’s a superhighway that runs between here and there.”
    “Daddy can’t travel that far by car.”
    “
Daddy
?”
    She removed the large, dark sunglasses that had been covering easily a third of her face. “I’m Bellamy. Remember?”
    Yeah, of course he remembered, but this was
Bellamy
? Susan’s kid sister? Like a nervous cat, always ducking out of sight whenever he came around. Skinny, gawky, braces on her teeth and pimples on her face. This was her?
    Her bony frame had since been padded in the right places. Her complexion was now unblemished, her teeth straight. She was dressed casually but expensively, and there were no split ends in the dark, glossy ponytail that was draped over one shoulder. Altogether a nice package.
    But you couldn’t melt an ice cube on her ass.
    She emanated the same snooty attitude as her parents. Directed especially toward Denton Carter. Olivia was looking at him as though he hadn’t showered that morning. The old man was either too sick or too indifferent even to speak. As for Bellamy, she had an imperious manner that rubbed him the wrong way, and they’d only exchanged a few words.
    He wasn’t going to take their shit. Not a second time.
    “There’s a commercial airport southeast of downtown,” he said, addressing Bellamy. “Maybe you’ve heard of it? Big shiny airplanes? They fly them several times a day to and from Houston.”
    She responded to his sarcasm with a smile that was equally caustic. “Yes, well, thank you for the suggestion. But it’s an ordeal for Daddy to go through airport security and all that that entails. I was told”—she glanced beyond him toward the hangar, where Gall was playing hide-and-seek—“I was told you have an airplane for charter. I’ve agreed to your terms and paid in advance for your services.”
    Dammit, he needed that payment.
    Two and a half grand was pocket change to the Lystons. To him it meant electricity, groceries, and a loan payment on his airplane. He could have kicked himself for not charging more. He could kick Gall even harder for not telling him who his paying passengers were. Setting him up to be blindsided like this, what was the old fart thinking?
    For that matter, what were the Lystons thinking? Why had they selected him out of all the charter options, including private jet service, which they could well afford? He doubted they wanted to form a friendship circle.
    He sure as hell wanted nothing to do with them.
    But, unfortunately, what Gall had said about gift horses applied here. If they could stand his company, he could stand theirs. Houston was a short flight.
    Dent turned to Howard Lyston, forcing him to acknowledge his existence. “What time is your appointment?”
    “Two o’clock.”
    “I’ll have you there with time