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dead? You’re sure?”
    Jack dropped the driver’s license on the desk next to the burnt money. “Stone-dead.” Before leaving the corpse, he’d wiped some of Eddy’s blood on it, for effect.
    Victor’s smile returned to his bulldog-like face. His criminal reputation was intact. He might have lost some money but the thief had been dealt with; no one messed with him or his club. He stood, picked up a handful of the blackened notes and crumbled the paper in his hand. “But how do I know the money’s gone?” His eyes fixed on Jack’s.
    Jack kept his calm, meeting his glare. “Cos I swear it, Mr. Renetti.”
    The club owner smiled broadly and then let out a laugh. “We’ve been through a lot you and me. You’re right. I trust your word. You wouldn’t be stupid enough to do me wrong, would you?”
    Victor sat back in his chair. He stared at the torn bloodstain on Jack’s upper sleeve. “He get you?”
    Jack shrugged. “A scratch. He missed. I didn’t.”
    Victor laughed again, more relaxed this time. “Yes, my friend, you’re as good as I said, maybe better. You’ve done well.”
    Jack thought carefully for a second. “Victor?” he said. “As the money’s lost, you can forget the finder’s fee. You don’t have to pay me.”
    Victor stood up and stepped around the table. Opening his arms, he gave Jack a big hug and patted him on the back. “No, no,” Victor said. “A deal is a deal. Job done. Money paid. I gave my word, and Victor Renetti always keeps his word.”
    He nodded to one of his bodyguards. The man stepped forward with a sleek black suitcase. “Ten grand, as agreed.” With their business concluded. Jack nodded to Victor, who smiled and left the office.
    Outside, Jack’s mind was racing, he had pulled it off. He was rich and there was no one after him. There and then, he vowed to make a new agency with more P.I’s, something big. He walked down the street into the cold, cloudy night. “Something Real,” he said, and then lit a cigarette. Inhaling deeply, he disappeared into the fog.
    END
    Jack Malone P.I will return in his own series.
     

Author Bio
    Adam lives at home in Shropshire, UK, with his young daughter Holly and amazing wife, Caroline. Who has put up with all his mad rambling’s and bouts of being ignored.
    While writing he is always pestered by their pets Fleur the dog and Skitz the cat.
     
    With all Adam’s book’s he tries to bring awareness that people with Dyslexia can accomplish anything, and it should never hold them back from reaching their goals.
    Adam has been a fan of the Film Noir Genre and Classic American crime ever since he read “The Long Goodbye.”
    When he's not writing his nose is always stuck in a sketchbook illustrating for his fellow author pals for more information and to keep in touch follow him on:
    mitchellwriter.weebly.com
    Follow him on Twitter @MitchellWriter
    I’m also on Facebook Adam C Mitchell