Devil's Food by Anthony Bruno

Author:Anthony Bruno [Bruno, Anthony]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Argo-Navis

13

Martha Lee kept thinking about the Browning automatic in the night table drawer, buried all the way in the back behind the nail polish bottles, nail polish remover, emery boards, scissors, barrettes, the earrings that didn’t have a match anymore, all that stuff. Naked, lying on her back in bed and staring at the ceiling, Martha was thinking about getting the gun out. But there was a problem. Torpedo Joe had his big leg draped over her legs and his big paw on her tit. She could barely move. The gun was stuck in her mind, though. She couldn’t think of any other way to get rid of him.

She glanced at his face. He seemed to be sleeping, but she couldn’t tell for sure. He ought to be sleeping, goddammit, she thought. After one go-round, most men just conk right out, and she and Joe had already done it twice. He wasn’t half-bad, all things considered. Pretty gentle for a guy his size. And he had waited for her to come first both times. It wasn’t exactly her idea of romance, but she didn’t realize how much she’d missed sex until Joe had shown up.

Of course, the fact that having sex with him had saved her life for the time being probably had a lot to do with the way she felt. He hadn’t actually threatened her yet, or even said what he was here for, but she knew. When Torpedo Joe Pickett showed up at your door, you didn’t have to ask why.

Something suddenly occurred to her. Maybe this was something new for him. Instead of coming to shoot her, he was planning on fucking her to death. He had a dick like a Louisville Slugger, and she swore to God she’d never come so many times in a row in her life. Maybe his plan was to keep doing it until she had a heart attack and died.

She thought about the .22 again and frowned. Even if she could get to it, it wouldn’t do her any good. She didn’t know how to use it really, and Joe probably got into fights every day. He’d take it away from her in no time flat. Or else she’d get a shot off and then find out that a little .22 couldn’t pierce his thick rhino hide.

She wiggled her toes and tried to bend her knees, but his leg was a deadweight on top of her, cutting off the circulation. Maybe that’s how he planned to kill her. Fuck her a few more times, then just lie down on top of her. Death by weight.

But even if she could get away from Joe, the goddamn IRS guys were gonna screw everything up. Once they got into the books, they’d figure out that the Alvarez Cocoa Company was a scam. They probably already knew that if, as she suspected, they had a spy here at the spa. That’s how they operated, those bastards. Undercover agents snooping around, getting in your underwear, finding out everything.

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