Just Another Job by Brett Battles Read Free Book Online Page B

seconds, Quinn put a finger to the man’s neck. There was still a pulse, weak but steady. Eric Maleeny was apparently a fighter and he was going to hang on as long as he could.
    Quinn remained kneeling next to the man as he considered his options. What if Durrie’s initial assessment of Eric’s condition had been wrong? What if the bullet the man had taken hadn’t done as much internal damage as Durrie had thought?
    If that were true, then Quinn held Eric’s life in his hands. More specifically, in his right hand that was pressed against the injured man’s torso. Quinn knew if he removed it, Eric would probably die quickly. But what if pressure was maintained? Could they keep him going long enough to get medical help?
    There were horrible things in Quinn’s job that had to be done, but an actual killing hadn’t been one of those things yet. That didn’t mean he couldn’t kill. He had just always assumed that if he had to, it would be out of self-preservation.
    Killing Eric would not be self-preservation. Eric was not even the intended target. When the operations team had confronted Eric and his buyer, it was the buyer who had put up a fight so it was him the bullets were meant for. Somehow one had found its way into Eric’s gut.
    If it had been the buyer Quinn had been kneeling next to, he would have had no problem standing up and walking away. And while Eric was not an innocent, Quinn couldn’t bring himself to be the man’s ultimate executioner.
    He came to a decision. Quickly, he moved his hand, pulled off the guy’s shirt, ripped it into a long strip then wrapped it around the man’s torso and tied it off as tightly as he could. As soon as he was finished, the blood flow once more slowed to a trickle.
    Quinn rose to his feet just as his mentor reappeared at the end of the building.
    “ We done yet?” Durrie asked.
    “Bring the van over.”
    Quinn’s answer seemed to satisfy Durrie. The senior cleaner turned and walked off toward where they had left the van.
    Quinn squatted down and worked his arms under Eric’s body. With a grunt, he lifted the man and moved him several feet away from where he had been resting, then set him back down.
    The ground under where Eric had been was covered in blood. Quinn grabbed a couple of the towels Durrie had brought over and placed them over the mess.
    As the blood soaked into the towels, he removed the rubber gloves he’d been wearing and pulled on a fresh pair. From his pocket, he retrieved a powerful palm-size flashlight and began a detailed scan of the immediate area. He needed to see everywhere there was blood or signs of the traumatic event that had occurred there. Not surprisingly, most of what he found was confined to a couple of feet around the section of parking lot where Eric had collapsed.
    An engine started not too far away. A few moments later the van came around the corner and headed in Quinn’s direction, lights off.
    Quinn slipped the flashlight back into his pocket. As soon as Durrie pulled to a stop a few feet away, Quinn opened the side doors. The cargo space was covered with several thick plastic sheets. Near the back was the body of the man who had met with Eric. Durrie had already wrapped him loosely in his own plastic cocoon. There were several items just inside the door. Quinn reached in and grabbed a large plastic garbage bag, the heavy-duty-strength kind.
    In it went the two blood-soaked towels. What was left on the asphalt now was more a damp stain than anything else.
    Durrie got out of the cab and came around the front, pulling on his own set of rubber gloves.
    “Most of the blood is contained right here,” Quinn said, motioning to the area Eric had been in. “There are a few spots off to the left and one three feet, straight out.”
    “Why’d you move the body?” Durrie asked. “Now you got extra stains to deal with.”
    “It’s fine,” Quinn said. “There’ll only be a few spots there.”
    “It’s going to look