Jack Palms Crime Series: Books 1-3: Jack Palms Crime Box Set 1 (Jack Palms Box Sets) by Seth Harwood

Author:Seth Harwood [Harwood, Seth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: CrimeWAV Books
Published: 2019-01-28T22:00:00+00:00

22

Jack speaks with all the calm he can manage. “Close the door.”

Freeman lets the door fall closed against what’s left of the frame. It won’t quite fit into place or lock again, but Jack relaxes a little when no one else comes in.

“Where are the Suits?”

Freeman lowers his arms as he stares at the barrel of the gun.

“Now, Jack, what you really going to do? Just come take a ride real quick. This all can end.”

“With you and your friends? What’d you do with the Suits?”

“It’s just us, Jack. That’s how you want it, right? It’s how I do.”

Jack takes another step away from the big man. He judges Freeman’s reach, steps toward the foot of the bed.

“What did you do last night after you dropped me off?”

“Just business, Jack.” Freeman shakes his head, tilts his neck to one side until it pops. “We all have to do what we can do. Now, don’t you see this little police charade ain’t going to pan out? You not going to fix this, Jack.”

“Who shot Mills?”

“Ain’t that a bitch, though?” Freeman steps into the room as though this is only a casual chat, shaking his head and smiling at the news of another death.

Jack steps around the end of the bed, wanting to put the queen-size between them.

“Put down the gun, Jack. Don’t be crazy about none of this.” Freeman reaches toward Jack, steps closer again.

Jack feels his way along the end of the bed with his foot, keeping the gun and both eyes on Freeman. At the corner, he moves to the other side of the bed.

“Give me the gun, Jack.”

Jack shakes the gun, aims it toward Freeman’s knee. “You remember back at the Coast? How it felt to get shot in the leg?”

“Yeah. I remember. And I’m still standing.” Freeman pushes out his lips. “You want to shoot me?” He holds his arms out wide from his waist. “Go ahead.”

Maybe Jack waits a second too long; maybe Freeman gets tired of waiting. He steps up onto the bed to come at Jack, and Jack steps back. As he does, he pulls the trigger.

The gun goes off, loud and hot, blasting a slug through Freeman’s left knee. Blood splatters onto the bedspread, and Freeman topples over the foot of the bed onto his back on the floor.

He reaches up as soon as he’s down, clawing at the bed, pulling spread and blankets toward him as he tries to get up. Something awful, a growl in a register Jack’s never heard a person use, bellows out through Freeman’s teeth.

Jack shot a gun in his movie, went through a complete handgun training course in preparation for his role as Sergeant Mike Haggerty. But the truth is, he’s never shot a person, and it was something he hoped he’d never have to do. Now he’s crossed that line: There’s a before and an after, and he’s just come into the now.

“Yo, Jack,” Freeman says, his whole face clenching in pain, “now I’m a have to kill you myself!”

“Violence,” Jack says.

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