Read Online The Baddest Ass (Billy Lafitte #3) by Anthony Neil Smith - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Anthony Neil Smith
Ads: Link
got a nice little space heater in there. And the coffee's better than you think. One of those one-cup-at-a-time machines I brought in."
He starts walking without waiting. The guards behind Colleen don't do anything. No helpful guiding by the elbow. Why not just arrest her? Can she leave if she wants? But the same as Ri'Chess, they're counting on her being more afraid of the fallout back in the real world than of what they have to tell her now.
Small steps, but she takes them. She hears the jingling of keys as the guards follow her, keeping a respectful distance. At least she's not so cold anymore.
*
It doesn't feel like a real office. More like they mocked it up especially for her. Simple card table and a folding chair, an area rug too long for the room, so the ends lap onto the walls. The other chair in the room is on wheels, an office chair you would buy at Staples, on a flattened cardboard box so it could roll, barely. The space heater tower sits in the corner. Glowing, doing a good job. Colleen starts to sweat. Some plastic storage containers hold up the coffee machine in the corner. The new, more senior guard is holding out a couple of pods.
"This one's normal, but we've got cinnamon roll, too."
"I'm fine."
"Really, I insist."
She doesn't drink coffee. Hates it. "Cinnamon roll sounds good."
The guard—name on his shirt says "Garner"—fusses with the machine and sets a throwaway cup under the dripper. The machine whirrs and spits out a stream just like that. The room smells like cinnamon and it itches Colleen's nose. She sits on the folding chair, hands in her lap. She doesn't even have a proper ID on her. They could lose her in the system here if they wanted. Or keep her toasty with fresh cups of coffee until the Feds showed up to arrest her, take her away, all of this—lying, setting up a hit, getting raped , yes, that's what it was, stealing an identity—for nothing. Would she roll on Rome? You bet she would. As soon as they slap the cuffs on her, she would sing all the way back to the Cities.
Garner sets the cup in front of her. She mumbles thanks and takes a sip. Just like she remembers—crap. Garner sits across from her, his chair at an angle so he can cross his legs and twist left and right in his fancy-assed chair. Distance. Yes. That's a good one. Not her style for interrogation, but she gets it. He's tall and in charge with an arm braced on the tabletop by the heel of his palm, tapping fingers.
"So, I take it things aren't quite going the way you expected them to."
"I still don't know what you're talking about."
"I feel it's my fault, a little. I should've gotten to you before we let you see our boy Ricardo. But we had to be sure."
"Sure of…what, exactly? I need to make a couple of calls, so if, you know, I could get. A. Phone , maybe?"
He laughs, low and short, and shakes his head. "Hey, we're just talking here. I didn't say anything about an arrest or whatever."
"Well, now you have."
Tap tap tap. "That's good. You're sharp. Again, I apologize for…I'm assuming you didn't want to go through with it, right? It was just a way to cover up your real business with Ricardo?"
Colleen squeezes her hands tightly, imagining her pistol in them. About the only time she's seriously considered turning it on herself after these past few years. Goddamn. This is worse than actually getting fucked.
She says, "I would like to make those calls now."
A sigh. Just like on TV. The stereotype of every evil prison guard in one noise. "I'm going to let you make one call. It's going to be the person you're working with on the outside. Whoever's got the cash, that's who you call. And you will tell him or her that in order to make this happen, we'll need fifty thousand, not seventeen."
Colleen bites clean through the inside of her lip. Won't let him know that, though. She swallows the metallic blood and realizes that Ri'Chess was the exact wrong person to talk to about this thing. He's a bragger. He needs to be
He starts walking without waiting. The guards behind Colleen don't do anything. No helpful guiding by the elbow. Why not just arrest her? Can she leave if she wants? But the same as Ri'Chess, they're counting on her being more afraid of the fallout back in the real world than of what they have to tell her now.
Small steps, but she takes them. She hears the jingling of keys as the guards follow her, keeping a respectful distance. At least she's not so cold anymore.
*
It doesn't feel like a real office. More like they mocked it up especially for her. Simple card table and a folding chair, an area rug too long for the room, so the ends lap onto the walls. The other chair in the room is on wheels, an office chair you would buy at Staples, on a flattened cardboard box so it could roll, barely. The space heater tower sits in the corner. Glowing, doing a good job. Colleen starts to sweat. Some plastic storage containers hold up the coffee machine in the corner. The new, more senior guard is holding out a couple of pods.
"This one's normal, but we've got cinnamon roll, too."
"I'm fine."
"Really, I insist."
She doesn't drink coffee. Hates it. "Cinnamon roll sounds good."
The guard—name on his shirt says "Garner"—fusses with the machine and sets a throwaway cup under the dripper. The machine whirrs and spits out a stream just like that. The room smells like cinnamon and it itches Colleen's nose. She sits on the folding chair, hands in her lap. She doesn't even have a proper ID on her. They could lose her in the system here if they wanted. Or keep her toasty with fresh cups of coffee until the Feds showed up to arrest her, take her away, all of this—lying, setting up a hit, getting raped , yes, that's what it was, stealing an identity—for nothing. Would she roll on Rome? You bet she would. As soon as they slap the cuffs on her, she would sing all the way back to the Cities.
Garner sets the cup in front of her. She mumbles thanks and takes a sip. Just like she remembers—crap. Garner sits across from her, his chair at an angle so he can cross his legs and twist left and right in his fancy-assed chair. Distance. Yes. That's a good one. Not her style for interrogation, but she gets it. He's tall and in charge with an arm braced on the tabletop by the heel of his palm, tapping fingers.
"So, I take it things aren't quite going the way you expected them to."
"I still don't know what you're talking about."
"I feel it's my fault, a little. I should've gotten to you before we let you see our boy Ricardo. But we had to be sure."
"Sure of…what, exactly? I need to make a couple of calls, so if, you know, I could get. A. Phone , maybe?"
He laughs, low and short, and shakes his head. "Hey, we're just talking here. I didn't say anything about an arrest or whatever."
"Well, now you have."
Tap tap tap. "That's good. You're sharp. Again, I apologize for…I'm assuming you didn't want to go through with it, right? It was just a way to cover up your real business with Ricardo?"
Colleen squeezes her hands tightly, imagining her pistol in them. About the only time she's seriously considered turning it on herself after these past few years. Goddamn. This is worse than actually getting fucked.
She says, "I would like to make those calls now."
A sigh. Just like on TV. The stereotype of every evil prison guard in one noise. "I'm going to let you make one call. It's going to be the person you're working with on the outside. Whoever's got the cash, that's who you call. And you will tell him or her that in order to make this happen, we'll need fifty thousand, not seventeen."
Colleen bites clean through the inside of her lip. Won't let him know that, though. She swallows the metallic blood and realizes that Ri'Chess was the exact wrong person to talk to about this thing. He's a bragger. He needs to be
Similar Books
