Bullets Are My Business (9781101616413) by Josh K. Stevens Read Free Book Online Page A

contract out on me. I unglue my eyes from the broad’s ass and I step up to the counter. The ape standing there has been staring at me staring at the girl. Now he narrows his eyes at me.
    â€œWhaddaya want?” the ape snarls. I suppose I don’t look like I want a towel. Maybe the leather jacket gives that away. I place my hands on the counter and try my best to be diplomatic.
    â€œI have a couple of questions.” My voice is lowered. The ape lowers his eyebrows so that they’re at the same pitch as my voice, making him look even more Cro-Magnon than he did when I first walked in.
    â€œThis ain’t some sort of fuckin’ information booth,” he rumbles. “If you ain’t lifting, then you should probably walk away.”
    He sneers at me and moves his index and middle fingers like a pair of thick, hairy legs, motioning toward the door. I grit my teeth and ask myself the same question I always do when I’m looking for simple answers to terribly simple questions. Why do people have to be so difficult? In a way, this has become something of a mantra for me. If I did yoga, that would be what I’d repeat over and over again for the duration of the class. Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem to matter how many times I ask myself the question, I have yet to receive an answer and shit never changes. I take a deep breath. So much for doing this the easy way.
    I lean over the counter and motion for the ape to do the same. As I suspected, he’s not a bright fellow, so he leans closer. He’s close enough so that I can smell the revolting mixture of Red Bull on his breath and sweat on his skin. My hand darts up and grabs hold of the cartilage of his nose and I pull him even further over the counter. With my other hand, I remove my blade from my pocket and place the tip under his jaw. I hope no one in the lifting area can see this. If I’m playing my cards right, it looks like we’re having an intense private conversation. I don’t need all those gorillas on my back. Unfortunately, I can’t risk taking a glance over my shoulder to see if the people beyond the chest-high wall that divides the reception area from the lifting area are watching. That would blow what little cover I have. I don’t want to draw any more attention to myself than I already have by being the only guy in this place that’s not wearing jogging pants and sweating profusely. I gotta be fast with this interrogation.
    â€œYou’re not a pretty man,” I whisper to him, “and if you don’t start cooperating, you’re going to be getting a whole hell of a lot less pretty. Do you follow?” The ape nods as best he can. I stick the blade into his chin a little harder to illustrate my point. He winces. I can see that he knows I’m not messing around. I can also see that he’s scared by the beads of sweat that have started popping out on his caveman forehead.
    â€œYou ain’t gonna walk out of here alive, shithead,” he whispers. The ape’s threat is missing the edge that he’s going for due to the hushed tone he’s forced to use. Apparently the knife blade is doing what I want it to do. He’s angry enough to keep talking to me like he’s not scared, but at least he’s doing it quietly.
    â€œThat’s a chance that I’m taking, isn’t it?” I ask him. He doesn’t answer, just stares a hole through me. “So, I’ll deal with that on my own. Now, I’m looking for a guy who goes by the name of Bruiser. You heard of him?”
    â€œI don’t know anyone named Bruiser.” I can tell that the ape is lying by his blatant lack of profanity. I pull on his nose and dig the knife in a little deeper. Small beads of blood drip onto the countertop. He winces and inhales sharply. The muscles in his neck tense up.
    â€œI’m going to give you a second chance. One more chance to come up with the correct answer.