Hidden Riches by Nora Roberts

Author:Nora Roberts [Roberts, Nora]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi

“And then.”

“He’ll whack her, don’t worry.” DiCarlo smiled a little, professional man to professional man. “He won’t leave any loose ends.”

“Ah, yes, loose ends. Most inconvenient. And yourself?”

“Me, I figured I’d take a few months in Mexico. Odds are they got a look at me. It was dark, sure, but I don’t like to take those kind of chances. If they manage to make me, I’d rather be across the border.”

“Wise, I’m sure.” Finley bent over a rosebush, sniffed delicately at a pale pink bud just beginning to part its tender petals. “It occurs to me, Mr. DiCarlo, that if they make you, they may involve me—however indirectly.”

“No way. No possible way. Rest easy, Mr. Finley, they’d never tie a man like you with a couple of break-ins in a Philadelphia junk shop.”

“Loose ends,” Finley said with a sigh. When he straightened, he held a pearl-handled revolver in his hand. And he was smiling again, charmingly. “It’s best to snip them off.”

He fired, aiming just above DiCarlo’s belt buckle. The sound echoed over the hills and sent terrified birds screaming skyward.

DiCarlo’s eyes widened with surprise, then glazed with pain. The unbelievable fire of the pain. Dully, he looked down at his belly, pressing a hand against the spreading stain before his knees crumpled beneath him.

“You disappoint me, Mr. DiCarlo.” Finley didn’t raise his voice but bent low to let the words carry.

“Did you take me for a fool? Did you think so much of yourself that you believed I would take your pathetic excuses and wish you bon voyage?”

He straightened and, while DiCarlo writhed in pain from the gunshot, kicked him viciously in the ribs.

“You failed!” he shouted, and kicked again, again, screaming over DiCarlo’s groaning pleas for mercy.

“I want my painting. I want what’s mine. It’s your fault, your fault I don’t have it.”

Spittle ran from Finley’s mouth as he shot DiCarlo’s left kneecap, then his right. DiCarlo’s thin scream of pain faded away into animal whimpers.

“I would have killed you quickly if you hadn’t insulted my intelligence. Now it may take you hours, hours of agony. And it’s not enough.”

He had to force himself to replace the revolver in his pocket. He took out a handkerchief and gently dabbed the perspiration from his brow.

“Not enough,” he repeated. He bent down close again, pressing his face into DiCarlo’s. “You had your orders. Did you forget who was in charge?”

“Please,” DiCarlo moaned, too deep in shock to realize his pleas were useless, and that he was already dead. “Help me. Please.”

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