Lucky Bang by Deborah Coonts

the heat on you, but I need you to do a few things in return."
    "Just say the word."
    "I need all the dynamite you've got left, and then I want you and your friends to try to track down the dude you sold the stuff to. If you find him, don't kill him. Bring him to me. Promise me."
    "You got my word." He banged his chest with a closed fist—some sort of secret salute or something, I figured. I thought he might break a rib. Then he pushed through the doorway to the back. A few moments later he returned with a weathered wooden crate, which he thrust at me. "This is all of it."
    Carefully, I grabbed it and looked inside. The wooden box held nine sticks, paper tubes really, each oozing a dark, gooey substance. Old and unstable. Great. I gave Frenchie the sternest look I could muster. "This is serious shit. You swear this is all there is? Your friend, Flea, he didn't take any?"
    He shook his head. "Swear."
    "And there's no more of this stuff on top of my hotel?"
    "Promise."
    Dane and Gracie's conversation was winding down behind me. I felt sure that, after we left, she'd have to wipe his drool off the bike. "Why'd you break the lock on the shed?"
    "Work was crazy. By the time we knocked off, someone had buttoned-up the joint. I broke the lock and took my property. When I was offsite and out of reach, I called Xavier."
    "You don't happen to know anything about the guy who bought the stuff besides what he looks like, do you? Like his name? Where he's from? What kind of car he was driving?"
    "Don't know any of the particulars, but he was sportin' a hot piece of iron, just like the one you got out there." Frenchie nodded toward the parking lot out front.
    It was my turn to be surprised. "A Ferrari?"
    "Yeah, local plates and a Babylon emblem."
    "You mean he was driving one of our Ferraris?"

    ***

    "Did you just offer that woman a night with me in exchange for the Harley?" Dane asked me as I carefully lowered the crate into the space behind the seats.
    We both settled into the car and belted up. I punched the start button and the engine growled to life. "I wanted to know what it would be like on the other end of that kind of transaction for once." I grinned at him with more humor than I felt. "I almost had a deal, too."
    "You think you're cute, don't you?" Dane tried to act angry but he couldn't pull it off.
    "No, just having fun at someone else's expense. Not a particularly proud moment." I eased the Ferrari into traffic, this time at a much more sedate pace. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about the decomposition of dynamite, would you?"
    "You were serious? You weren't just jerking my chain when I asked why we were headed to a cheap shop on the wrong side of town?" Dane's eyes widened, letting in a bit of light, apparently. "Don't tell me that's what's in the box."
    Keeping my eyes on the road, I nodded. Besides, I didn't have to look at him to know he rolled his eyes and then glowered at me. He unfastened himself and squirmed around to take a look, then he repositioned himself. "You got a big problem."
    "I have many, could you be more specific?"
    "That's really old stuff. Probably made sometime in the late fifties, early sixties before they switched to ammonium nitrate."
    "I know that much," I said in my 'brave' voice. "And all those Westerns I watched as a kid where they blew everything to kingdom come with the stuff. And that bit about one jolt setting it off? That was Hollywood, right?" I accelerated onto the 515.
    "Not really. This stuff is prone to unplanned explosions." Dane's voice got all quiet and serious. "I've heard of this stuff blowing when the sun hit it."
    One glance told me was serious. Careful to avoid any jarring, I quickly downshifted, decelerating to make the next exit, Flamingo Road. "Change in plans. Call AFT. Have them meet us in the parking lot at Sam Boyd Stadium. If we blow, I don't want to take anyone else with us."
    "If we go," Dane said as he grabbed his cell and started dialing, "it'd be a real