Crazy Hot Read Online Free PDF Page A

the computer, it crossed her mind to bolt. She just as quickly discarded the idea. She'd come to Cisco on a mission, and by a stroke of luck—good or bad, she didn't know which yet—she'd succeeded. She'd found Quinn Younger. She wasn't leaving without asking him a few questions.
    “This sucks,” Kid said, glaring down at the computer screen.
    Quinn went up behind him and looked over Kid's shoulder, then swore. “Vince Branson? I thought he was still in Chicago.”
    “Yeah, well, looks like he followed Roper to the new neighborhood.”
    Quinn swore again. “What's with the white-haired guy?”
    “Nothing yet. I get a No Access message.”
    “I thought we had access to all the feds' files, good guys and bad guys.”
    “Yeah, well, up until last Christmas, I thought there was a Santa Claus, too.” Kid kept tapping keys, his attention on the screen.
    “What happened?”
    “Superman sat me down and explained the facts of life.” Kid flashed Quinn a grin, but it quickly faded when he returned his attention to the computer. “Look, I can hack through it, but that's going to take time, which we ain't got.” He turned, his dark-eyed gaze locking onto Regan's across the length of the barn. “Whatever the hell those guys are up to, they followed her right to our front door. Which means we've probably been made.”
    In an instant Regan understood where he came by his nickname. The boy wonder definitely looked like he could do some seriously chaotic damage to anyone not on his side. From the accusatory glare in his eyes, she'd clearly just fallen into that category.
    For a second, she reconsidered bolting out the door. Then she realized just exactly how far she would get, about half a step before Kid Chaos was all over her. Besides, she wasn't sure she had the strength to run very far in Cisco's heat. She needed to get back to her car, back to some air-conditioning.
    “I don't
think
she's the enemy, Kid,” Quinn said, leaning back on the computer desk and crossing his arms over his chest.
    Regan felt herself flush again. What came off as a threat from Kid Chaos was pure insult from Quinn Younger. He knew who she was, knew her grandfather.
    “I came here looking for Wilson,” she said. “That's the only reason I'm here. I don't know any Vince Branson.”
    “But he seems to know you,” Quinn replied, pushing away from the desk. “What makes you think Wilson is here in Cisco?”
    Before she could answer, Kid interrupted. “If you want me to get up there and take them out, I should do it before they have a chance to move.”
    Take them out?
Alarmed, Regan shifted her gaze to the younger man. She knew exactly what he meant, and the words sent a chill down her spine. If ordered, Kid Chaos could become a one-man angel-faced death squad. What in the hell had she walked into?
    “No. We'll let them have Cisco, if they can work up the balls to take it.”
    “What about her car? Dump it?” the boy wonder asked, and Regan's eyes got even wider.
    “Whoa, wait a minute.” She moved toward the two men and the desk, working to control the tremor in her voice. “No car dumping. No way. Not my car. If you want to dump a car, dump this one.” She gestured at the car on her left, the ugliest piece of junk she'd ever seen. It had no paint, just four or five shades of black and gray primer. It had only half a dashboard. The rest was a snake pit of wires, gauges, and gizmos. It had no backseat, just a hold full of junk. What it did have was an engine sitting under the open hood, a lot of engine even to her untrained eye.
    On her right was a sleek Porsche, which according to her grandfather had been Quinn's specialty as a juvenile, before he'd gotten busted for stealing one too many. With her next step, another memory clicked into place: Quinn had told her to take his car, the Camaro, if things didn't go down right.
    She slowed to a stop and gave the ugly piece of junk a closer look.
    Yes,
she thought. Beneath all the ugly was the