Read Online Forced Out by Stephen Frey - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Stephen Frey
Tags: Fiction, General, thriller, Suspense, adventure, Thrillers, Mystery & Detective, American Mystery & Suspense Fiction, Suspense fiction, Espionage, Modern fiction, Baseball, Sports & Recreation, Fiction - Espionage, Murder for hire, Sports, Crime thriller
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else interesting. Other than the fact that McLean didn't drown in the East River that night."
"Mmm. Yeah?"
"Yeah. He told me your guys killed Kyle McLean's girlfriend."
"Bullshit," Marconi retorted, smacking his lips. "We never touched her. She died in a car accident."
The old man had denied any involvement fast. Too fast. Like he'd known the accusation was coming. Or like he'd denied it before. "Yeah, that's what Casey said you'd say. But he said the brakes had been screwed with. Said the NYPD crime lab inspected the car, and it was pretty obvious what happened."
Marconi smiled, pieces of half-chewed food stuck between his crooked lower row of yellow teeth. Smiled like he was counting to ten slowly. "Maybe McLean screwed with the brakes. Maybe she did him dirty, and he couldn't take it. Ever think of that?" Johnny touched the card in his shirt pocket. Christ, if he'd ever found out Karen was cheating on him, he would have lost his mind. "No, I didn't."
"Well, Deuce, that's why I'm where I am." The old man picked at a piece of lettuce between his two front teeth. "And you're where you are." 9
A S JACK HOISTED the last two plastic bags out of the shopping cart and into the Mercedes' trunk, a tub of margarine slipped out and tumbled to the cigarette-strewn pavement of the Publix grocery store parking lot.
"Pick that up."
Jack eyed the woman who'd just yapped at him like a Chihuahua on steroids. She was standing a few feet away. She was middle-aged, dripping with jewelry, and wearing huge Chanel sunglasses. He'd seen her in the store before--she made a huge production of herself whenever she came in--but he'd never had to lug her bags to her car. Somehow he'd escaped that pleasure--until now.
All the bag boys in the store hated her, cringed when they saw her come in. Just hoped to God she wouldn't end up at their aisle when she was finished shopping. Supposedly she was a rich-as-sin widow, but all she ever tipped was a quid. Twenty-five measly cents to be her man-slave for ten minutes in the steaming hot Florida sun. It was almost like she enjoyed being cheap, the guys said. Said she smiled funny when she dropped the coin into your sweaty palm. Like she knew what a joke it was, and she was having fun toying with you. Well, the way this was going, he wouldn't even get a nickel. He knelt down and picked up the container, feeling the flask of scotch in the pocket of his green apron.
"Let me see it," she demanded, snatching the container from his hand. "It's damaged. I want a new one."
Jack shook his head. "There's nothing wrong with it," he said politely.
"I want a new one."
Another bag boy was stowing groceries into the back of an SUV across the lane. A clean-cut, African-American teenager who'd taught Jack the ropes on his first day at the store. Jack caught the kid watching out of the corner of his eye, hiding a grin. "Then get it your damn self," he muttered. "And don't be such a bitch ." The second he said it, he wished he could have taken it back. Not because of the trouble it could get him in, but because he'd let his temper get away from him. Because he'd stooped to her level and lost his grip on being a gentleman.
The woman dropped the margarine and pressed her hands to her mouth. This time the top popped off and rolled beneath a Toyota parked beside the Mercedes. "What did you say?"
The word had come out of his mouth with no warning, a knee-jerk reaction to her unbearable rudeness and arrogance. Helped along by the scotch, of course. For the past few hours he'd been sneaking a snort every time he finished stowing someone's bags, careful not to pull the flask out in front of the parking lot security cameras mounted atop the light poles. He felt bad because he'd promised Cheryl he wouldn't drink anymore, but forty minutes into his shift he'd known he couldn't survive the day without it. Besides, technically she hadn't asked him to stop drinking for good. Just for last night. He leaned down and retrieved the
"Mmm. Yeah?"
"Yeah. He told me your guys killed Kyle McLean's girlfriend."
"Bullshit," Marconi retorted, smacking his lips. "We never touched her. She died in a car accident."
The old man had denied any involvement fast. Too fast. Like he'd known the accusation was coming. Or like he'd denied it before. "Yeah, that's what Casey said you'd say. But he said the brakes had been screwed with. Said the NYPD crime lab inspected the car, and it was pretty obvious what happened."
Marconi smiled, pieces of half-chewed food stuck between his crooked lower row of yellow teeth. Smiled like he was counting to ten slowly. "Maybe McLean screwed with the brakes. Maybe she did him dirty, and he couldn't take it. Ever think of that?" Johnny touched the card in his shirt pocket. Christ, if he'd ever found out Karen was cheating on him, he would have lost his mind. "No, I didn't."
"Well, Deuce, that's why I'm where I am." The old man picked at a piece of lettuce between his two front teeth. "And you're where you are." 9
A S JACK HOISTED the last two plastic bags out of the shopping cart and into the Mercedes' trunk, a tub of margarine slipped out and tumbled to the cigarette-strewn pavement of the Publix grocery store parking lot.
"Pick that up."
Jack eyed the woman who'd just yapped at him like a Chihuahua on steroids. She was standing a few feet away. She was middle-aged, dripping with jewelry, and wearing huge Chanel sunglasses. He'd seen her in the store before--she made a huge production of herself whenever she came in--but he'd never had to lug her bags to her car. Somehow he'd escaped that pleasure--until now.
All the bag boys in the store hated her, cringed when they saw her come in. Just hoped to God she wouldn't end up at their aisle when she was finished shopping. Supposedly she was a rich-as-sin widow, but all she ever tipped was a quid. Twenty-five measly cents to be her man-slave for ten minutes in the steaming hot Florida sun. It was almost like she enjoyed being cheap, the guys said. Said she smiled funny when she dropped the coin into your sweaty palm. Like she knew what a joke it was, and she was having fun toying with you. Well, the way this was going, he wouldn't even get a nickel. He knelt down and picked up the container, feeling the flask of scotch in the pocket of his green apron.
"Let me see it," she demanded, snatching the container from his hand. "It's damaged. I want a new one."
Jack shook his head. "There's nothing wrong with it," he said politely.
"I want a new one."
Another bag boy was stowing groceries into the back of an SUV across the lane. A clean-cut, African-American teenager who'd taught Jack the ropes on his first day at the store. Jack caught the kid watching out of the corner of his eye, hiding a grin. "Then get it your damn self," he muttered. "And don't be such a bitch ." The second he said it, he wished he could have taken it back. Not because of the trouble it could get him in, but because he'd let his temper get away from him. Because he'd stooped to her level and lost his grip on being a gentleman.
The woman dropped the margarine and pressed her hands to her mouth. This time the top popped off and rolled beneath a Toyota parked beside the Mercedes. "What did you say?"
The word had come out of his mouth with no warning, a knee-jerk reaction to her unbearable rudeness and arrogance. Helped along by the scotch, of course. For the past few hours he'd been sneaking a snort every time he finished stowing someone's bags, careful not to pull the flask out in front of the parking lot security cameras mounted atop the light poles. He felt bad because he'd promised Cheryl he wouldn't drink anymore, but forty minutes into his shift he'd known he couldn't survive the day without it. Besides, technically she hadn't asked him to stop drinking for good. Just for last night. He leaned down and retrieved the
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