Ultimate Supernatural Horror Box Set by F. Paul Wilson, Blake Crouch, Scott Nicholson, Jeff Strand, Jack Kilborn, J. A. Konrath, Iain Rob Wright, Jordan Crouch Read Free Book Online

the END button. 
    “Charlie is in a bar in Chelsea.  Want me to bring him back to the hotel?”
    The Senador sighed and rubbed his eyes for a long moment.  Then: “No.  Who knows what shape he’s in?  I don’t want a scene.  Use the jet to take him home, then send it back for me.  I won’t be leaving until tomorrow night anyway.”
    “Very well.  I should be back by early afternoon.”
    “No.  Not you.  I want you to stay with Charlie.  Do not let him off the grounds.  Do not let him out of your sight until I get back.”
    “If that is your wish, then that is the way it will be.”
    The Senador laughed softly.  “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if that were true with everything.  I’d have wished Charlie to be a different sort than he is.  Let us pray that he’ll cooperate this time.”
    He took Emilio’s hand in his and bowed his head.  Emilio set his jaw.  The very thought of holding another man’s hand, even in prayer, even if it was the Senador , made him queasy.  He bowed his head but he did not pray.  That was for women.  Old women.  This incessant praying was the only part of the Senador ’s character he did not respect.  It was unmanly.
    But in all other matters he revered him.
    That did not mean that he understood him.  Why track down Charlie and bring him back to Paraiso?  He had done a good job of hiding himself away.  Why ferret him out?  Let him stay hidden.  Let sleeping dogs lie...
    If you’re going to do anything, Emilio thought as the Senador prayed, do something permanent.  As much as I like Charlie, just say the word and he will really disappear.  Without a trace.  Forever.
    But he knew the Senador would never order the death of his maricon son. 
    ‡
    After dropping the Senador at the Plaza and seeing him safely to his suite, Emilio returned to the limousine, but this time he took the front passenger seat. 
    “You’ll probably be more comfortable in the back,” the driver said.
    “I will not argue with that, Frederick,” Emilio said.  He knew the man’s name, home address, and driving record.  He’d checked all that out before letting the Senador into the limo.  “But I wish to speak to you as we drive.”
    “Okay,” the driver said.  Emilio detected wariness in his tone.  That was good.  “But you can call me Fred.  Where to?”
    “Downtown.”
    “Any particular—?”
    “Just drive, Fred.”
    As Fred turned onto Fifth Avenue, Emilio said, “Have you chauffeured many famous people around?”
    Fred grinned.  “You kidding?  You name ‘em, and if they’ve been to the Apple, I’ve driven them around.  Madonna, Redford, Bono, Winona Ryder, Cher, Axl Rose...the list goes on and on.  Too many to mention.”
    “I’ll bet you can write a book about what’s gone on in the rear section of this car.”
    “ A book?”  He laughed.  “Try ten books—all of them X-rated!”
    “Tell me some of the stories.  The juiciest ones.”
    “Uh-uh.  No way.  My lips are sealed.  Why y’think all those folks hire me?  Why y’think they always ask for Fred?  Because Fred gets Alzheimer’s when people come sniffing around about his clients.”
    Emilio nodded.  That jibed with what he’d heard about Fred. 
    He pulled a switchblade from the side pocket of his coat and pressed the button on the handle.  The gleaming narrow blade snick ed out and flashed in the glow of the passing street lamps.
    “Wh-what’s that all about?” Fred said, his voice half an octave higher now.
    “I’ve caught some dirt under one of my fingernails.”
    “B-better keep that out of sight.  They’re illegal here.”
    “So I’ve heard.”  Emilio used the point to scrape under a nail.  “Listen, Fred.  We’re going to be stopping at a place called The Dog Collar.”
    “Oh, boy.  On West Twenty-Sixth.  I know the joint.”
    “Some of your famous clients have been there?”
    He nodded.  “Yeah.  And you wouldn’t believe me if I told you who—which