Guarding the Socialite by Kimberly Van Meter Read Free Book Online

first option. Dillon was itching for a little action. And he wasn’t disappointed.
    â€œPiss off, cop. Ain’t against the law to stand here doing nothing,” he said, slewing his gaze away, dismissing Dillon with a sneer that said, you can’t do shit and I know it.
    Except—and here’s where it got fun—Dillon wasn’t a cop. And he didn’t much like to play by the rules.
    He tsked. “Now that’s not nice, Mad Johnny. Do your friends call you Mad or just Johnny? Or even John? Nicknames can be such a pain in the ass. My nickname was… Oh, right, you don’t care about that. How about this? Screw the niceties and let’s get to the point. I have questions and you’re going to answer them nice and tidy-like or else things are going to get a little…uncomfortable.”
    â€œUncomfortable?” Mad Johnny repeated, his lip curling with open scorn. “What are you going to do, cop? If you ain’t got a warrant, I ain’t answering shit. You savvy? Go find a doughnut shop somewhere and leave me alone.”
    So much for niceties. With a quick strike and twist, Dillon had busted the man’s nose and then put him in a headlock to whisper in his ear, “See, your first mistake was not knowing the difference between a cop and an FBI agent with a nasty disposition.” He tightened his hold and Mad Johnny’s eyes bulged as he struggled to get free. “Your second mistake? I hate doughnuts. Clog your arteries. They’re a heart attack with frosting. Now enough with the pleasantries…let’s chat.”
    He released the man and Mad Johnny spun away, glancing at the people who were giving them a wide berth but not making a move to help. He must’ve realized he was in a bad spot. He gingerly touched his nose and winced, then glared at Dillon. “You broke it, you fu—”
    â€œHey…watch your mouth,” Dillon warned, yet his lips twitched with the urge to dare him to push it. Damn, he was in a mood today. Mad Johnny bit back the expletive with a mutinous glare and then sucked back a wad of bloody snot with a wince. “That’s better. I knew you’d see it my way with a little encouragement. Now tell me about your association with Charlotte Tedrow.”
    Mad Johnny dialed back the glare as he weighed his possible answers. A moment later he must’ve figured it would do no harm to answer with a groan about his nose. “She’s my girl.”
    â€œYou mean was your girl, right?”
    A shaky but no less cocky grin spread across his lips but he lifted one shoulder. “Yeah…was.”
    Dillon considered the scum before him and speculated whether he knew about Charlotte’s death. His instinct told him he didn’t know. There was one way to find out. “Did you kill her?” The startled look said it all. The punk wasn’t a very good liar, and Dillon didn’t figure he was putting on a show for his benefit. Damn. Why couldn’t it be simple? This tosser probably didn’t have the brains required to finish a Scrabble game much less orchestrate a complex killing spree. “When was the last time you saw her?” he asked.
    â€œAre you messing with me?” Mad Johnny demanded, but there was uncertainty in his bloodshot eyes. “I just saw her—”
    â€œA few days ago when you forced her to deliver a package to Chinatown?” Dillon affected a bored expression but he watched the pimp with shark eyes. “Yeah, I know about that. What was in the package?”
    â€œAren’t you supposed to take me down to the station or something if you’re going to be interrogating me like this?”
    Dillon waved his question away. “We’re just talking, right?But no worries. I’ll have a uniform pick you up later when I find out what was in that package. Heroin? Meth? Pot? Did I hit the jackpot? So damn unoriginal. Not that I’d expect more