Dirty Deeds by Armand Rosamilia Read Free Book Online Page B

and my skin looked grayish. I looked fat and looked much older than I was.
    “Stop acting like a diva,” I whispered. If a dude was with me right now he’d pull my Man Card. I wouldn’t be able to argue, either.
    The doors to the elevator opened and I jumped back, ready to strike.
    It was my driver and he was smiling.
    “You alright?” he asked, trying not to laugh.
    “What are you doing? You almost got punched in the face and knocked out,” I said.
    He didn’t look like he believed me. Right now I didn’t believe me. I’d lost a step or three. Ten-fifteen years ago I would’ve broken his neck without hesitation and then tried to figure out where to dump the body. I was hoping I hadn’t pissed my pants.
    I needed a vacation.
    “We have a slight bump in the road,” the driver said.
    He led me to the car and pushed the key fob, opening the trunk.
    There was a man’s body inside with a bashed-in skull. I didn’t recognize the poor bastard.
    “Friend of yours?” the driver asked.
    I shook my head. I wasn’t much of a fighter unless I was cornered, although I could hold my own. It wasn’t as if I was bad at it, just I didn’t like doing it. Physical confrontation was not my thing unless it was last resort.
    “He tried to sneak up and put a bullet in my head, but I’d been watching since you got in the elevator. There was another guy in a black sedan but he took off when I beat his partner with his own pistol.”
    “How big was the pistol?” I asked. The damage was extensive. My driver was a big man but it would take half an hour to break a skull this bad. I hoped it wasn’t what he’d been doing while I was getting fitted for a suit.
    “I dragged him to the trunk and used the tire iron.”
    “That makes sense,” I said. I looked at the driver for signs I was next or he’d ask some questions. Instead, he closed the trunk and opened my door.
    “Your suit looks nice. Are you still up for a bar?” he asked.
    I waited until he got into the driver’s seat to answer. “No. I think I’ve had enough excitement for the night. Just drop me off at the hotel.”
    He nodded and started the car.
    “Should I ask what happens next?” This wasn’t the first time I’d been in a car with a body in the trunk, but it still freaks me out.
    “Your personal assistant took care of the details. I’ll drop you off and wait on the next block for an hour in case we were followed. A man named Robert will meet you in the lobby in the morning and make sure you get out of New York City in one piece.”
    “I need to check out the three locations first,” I said.
    The driver shrugged. “I’ll let Robert know. He can drive you.”
    I realized I didn’t know the driver’s name, and I thought it was a good thing.

SIX
    Unlike sitcoms and hour-long dramatic television, life rarely lets you solve one mystery before the next one comes along, right as the previous one is tied up with a pretty bow and put away.
    I was still dealing with the Little Chenzo stuff when Marisa called, and it had taken another turn for the worst last night after meeting Jacques. Not to mention the dead guy in the trunk. I decided not to ask Marisa about any of it, because I really didn’t want to know too much. I was starting to realize how good she was.
    “Boss, we got another job. This one is a bad one, too. Older subject in Las Vegas,” she said.
    I hated trying to subdue an older kid. Babies were easy. You snuck in, tried to keep them from crying, and stepped out. With older kids you sometimes had a fight if you didn’t do it quickly, and there were also the problems that came with a subject who knew who his family, friends, life, etc. had been and didn’t understand what was happening.
    Those kids had to be more or less brainwashed into believing they were someone else. I had a doctor somewhere in Dallas who specialized in this part of the journey, but I didn’t know a thing about him. It might even be a her for all I knew. The system was