Read Online Duke City Hit by Max Austin - Free Book Online Page B

thought of Lisa Mobley in years. But watching her waste away in the photos still came as a blow.
    “She never married?”
    “No,” Ryan said. “She used to tell me, when I was little, that I was all the man she needed. Later, she had a long-term boyfriend, Dennis, but he vanished when she got diagnosed.”
    Vic slipped the photos back into the envelope and slid it across the table.
    “Thanks. I appreciate you sharing those.”
    “Sure.” Ryan put the envelope in his pocket, and Vic was instantly sorry he’d handed it back so fast. He should’ve looked through the photos again, committed them to memory.
    The waiter brought steaming platters of food, and Ryan dug into his enchiladas. The sad photos had taken the edge off Vic’s appetite, and he sliced up his onion-smothered steak while he composed himself.
    “Pretty handy with that knife,” Ryan said.
    “It’s all about leverage. See how I put my index finger on top of the blade? I control the knife better that way.”
    Ryan picked up a butter knife and tested the grip. “I see what you mean.”
    Vic forked a chunk of the moist steak into his mouth and chewed. It was cooked perfectly, and his appetite made an instant rebound.
    “You ever use one of those on a job?”
    “A knife?”
    Ryan smiled, but Vic could tell he wanted a serious answer. He looked around to make sure no one in the clamorous restaurant could hear him.
    “Couple of times, but only because I had no choice. Knives are quiet and that’s good, but they’re messy. Guy’s blood gets on you, you’ve got to clean up before you can leave the scene. Small-caliber pistol leaves less evidence, less of a mess for somebody to clean up later.”
    “Very considerate of you.”
    They each took another bite. After he swallowed, Vic leaned closer and said, “Of course, sometimes the client
wants
it messy. Wants to make a point.”
    “Then what do you use?”
    “Depends. One time it was a chain saw.”
    Ryan made a face.
    “I wore sheets of plastic like a poncho, but I still had to throw away my clothes, my shoes. It wasn’t worth it. Two in the head would’ve made the same statement.”
    Ryan pointed at him with his fork. “How many contracts have you executed over the years? Do you even know?”
    “I’ve lost track,” Vic lied. He knew the exact number, but he’d never say it out loud, not even in a noisy place like Monroe’s. “Let’s just say I’ve never had a dissatisfied customer.”
    “Not many businesses can say that.”
    “I take pride in my work. You give me a job to do, it gets done.”
    Vic signaled the waiter for two more beers. Once the waiter was out of earshot, Ryan sprang his next question.
    “Do you remember your first time?”
    Vic hesitated. He was talking too much again. But what the hell, one more story wouldn’t make things any worse.
    “It was a biker from Tulsa, Oklahoma,” he said. “A renowned badass. The kind of guy I wanted to make sure never saw me coming.”
    “How did you get the job?”
    Vic snorted. “Not from an ad in the back of
Soldier of Fortune
magazine, I’ll tell you that much. All those motherfuckers are undercover cops.”
    He caught himself. Lowering his voice, he said, “I was already in the bail bond business, working for Penny’s dad, Art Randall. I’d worked my way up until I was his number one bounty hunter.”
    “A bounty hunter? For real?”
    “Not as romantic as it sounds. Mostly, it’s a matter of locating some lowlife, then calling the local cops to come pick him up.”
    Ryan nodded.
    “Anyway, this one time, Art sends me after this biker from Tulsa. He had a tip on where the guy was hiding out. I was about to leave and Art stops me and says, ‘You know, it would be better for everybody if Mr. Tulsa doesn’t show up in court.’ ”
    “He was going to roll over on somebody,” Ryan guessed.
    “Something like that. Anyway, I got the message. I found the guy in this motel outside Amarillo, just like the tipster