Читать книгу To Love a Thief - Merline Lovelace, Merline Lovelace - Страница 6

Yanking open the passenger door of a nondescript gray sedan, a heavyset male dropped into the seat. He brought with him just enough of the crisp September breeze to stir the stale odors of old French fries and half-eaten donuts that permeated the vehicle.

His nose wrinkled in disgust. “I wish to hell you’d dump your garbage in a trash can instead of tossing it in the back seat.”

“Never mind my garbage,” the driver growled. “Did you get through?”

“I got through.”

“What was the message that was so damn important we had to call today?”

“Our client’s getting antsy. Real antsy.”

The driver crumpled his foam coffee cup and tossed it over his shoulder to join the rest of the litter. Scowling, he glared at his associate.

“Hell! This isn’t like taking down a two-bit pusher or some husband who can’t keep his pants zipped. We’ve been trying to set up the job for a week now. The target never takes the same route to work, never eats at the same restaurant two nights in a row and has a security system tougher to crack than Fort Knox, for God’s sake!”

“So tell me something I don’t know.”

The retort earned him a hard, swift look. More than a little afraid of the man beside him, the passenger gulped and delivered the rest of the message that had come through the phone via a voice synthesizer that completely disguised the speaker’s age, sex and nationality.

“We gotta do it within twenty-four hours or the deal’s off.”

His mouth set, the driver hunched his arms over the wheel. He’d been in the business long enough to know his reputation was on the line here. He’d accepted the contract, demanded and received a five-figure advance. If he didn’t deliver as promised, he could kiss off the rest of the hefty fee he’d been promised. Worse, word would soon get around. Before long, he’d be back to shooting out the kneecaps of gamblers who welched on their debts at a hundred bucks a pop.

“All right,” he snarled. “We’ll do it tonight.”