Choke Point by Jay MacLarty Read Free Book Online Page A

in her mouth. “Pretty? What’s this about pretty, Leonidovich?”
    Uh-oh, that wasn’t the response he expected. He gave her a look of admonishment, trying to avoid the minefield. “Come on, Kyra, stop fishing for compliments. You know damn well—”
    “I am not fishing for compliments. I’m…I’m curious, that’s all. I haven’t had a date since Tony died. I have no idea how men look at me. And if you remember, you’re the only man who’s seen me naked in the past two years.”
    Now there was a memory, about as asexual as one could get, and he realized her interest had nothing to do with him. He was her safety net—the man who had pulled her out of El Pato prison—but he was certainly not her vision of a knight in shining armor. “Well of course I think you’re pretty.” He kept his tone impersonal. “You should be dating.” And then, to be absolutely sure he had eviscerated all possible misunderstanding, he added a final knife thrust. “There are plenty of guys out there who would leap at the opportunity.”
    “Great, that’s nice to hear.” She expelled a deep breath and slumped back into the corner. “That’s what I like about you, Leonidovich, you always tell the truth.”
    Right, so why did he feel like such a dishonest jerk?

C HAPTER S IX
     

Hospitalar Centro Conde São Januário de Macau
     
    Friday, 29 June 01:42:12 GMT +0800
     
    Robbie levered himself out from behind the wheel, squeezed between the seats, and duck-walked his way into the van’s makeshift kitchen, which was nothing more than an ice chest, a one-burner propane stove, a box of assorted snacks, and twelve liters of water. “Ya wanna drab of tea?”
    Mawl shook his head. It was bad enough being cooped up in a muggy VW Transporter for eight hours without having to piss in a plastic bottle. Especially in front of Jocko, who still had the gusty stream of a young stallion. Mawl glanced back and forth between the side mirrors, checking the parking lot for any activity before flipping on the wipers. One swipe only, not wanting to do anything that might draw attention to their vehicle. Bloody rain, it never stopped.
    Robbie refilled his travel mug—his fourth double cup in the last hour—and returned to his seat. “This is bollocks. We’ll never be gettin’ to him here. Not with all this security.”
    Mawl ignored the comment; he suspected as much, and finished wiping the fog off the inside of the windshield. “Something’s going on.”
    Robbie snatched up his night-vision scope and trained it on the hospital’s main entrance. “I’m not seeing anything.”
    “Check out the guards.”
    Robbie moved the scope back and forth, scrutinizing the two men flanking the doors. “Aye, they’re not lookin’ any different to me.”
    “See how they’re standing?” It was a foolish question; Jocko was too gung-ho-warrior to notice the subtle things. “They’re expecting something. Someone.”
    “I don’t see…” The kid’s voice trailed away as a three-car caravan turned off the Estrada do Visconde and circled toward the entrance. “Must be someone important.”
    Mawl laid the crosshairs of his telephoto lens directly on the limousine, one of the six champagne-colored DTS Presidential models that made up the new Pacific Pearl courtesy fleet. “Probably Li Quan.” The Pearl’s general manager was the only major player in the world of Macau gaming who had not yet joined the deathwatch. As the security men moved into protective positions, Mawl zeroed in on the limousine’s rear door, the camera automatically adjusting to the distance and light.
    “Those buggers are good,” Robbie whispered, as if his voice might carry the hundred meters. “Very good, aye?”
    Mawl nodded. “The best.”
    “Maybe the old boy’s gone toes up.”
    “Maybe,” Mawl agreed, but he didn’t think so. His inside man, a male nurse with a taste for drugs and gambling, had orders to call the minute Rynerson’s condition took a turn. Up