Every Last Drop: A Novel by Charlie Huston

Author:Charlie Huston
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Private investigators, New York (State), Vampires, Mystery & Detective, Joe (Fictitious Character), Fantasy Fiction, Private investigators - New York (State) - New York, Contemporary, Hard-Boiled, General, Fantasy, New York, Mystery Fiction, Pitt, Thrillers, Suspense, Manhattan (New York, Fiction, Occult & Supernatural, N.Y.)
ISBN: 9780345495884
Published: 2010-06-23T04:00:00+00:00

Jeo Pitt 4 - Every Last Drop

He waves a hand, shakes his head.

—Come now, wasn't yer doin'. Ya didn't pull da trigger. An like ya say, me an you, we always bin professional wit one nother. —Yeah. Sure.

I look north. —Know something? —What's dat?

I look over my shoulder at him.

—People down here who thought I was the badass, they must never have met you.

He smiles, showing me horse teeth. —Well an1 its nice o1 you ta say so. —Ta, Hurl. —Ta yerself, Joseph.

I start across the street. —An, Joe.

I look back.

Hurley covers his left eye. —Tink bout a patch. It'd suit ya, it would.

How you know if you've successfully ditched a tail by going where you were supposed to and then where you were not supposed to, is you show up someplace where you really don't fucking belong. If they're there, your ruse has failed. The best way to avoid having your ruse busted in this fashion is to never reappear where your tail can follow you.

Figure Hurley marching me right to the Coalition border at Fourteenth, and

standing there watching until I cross over, effectively blows that part of my plan.

I need a cab.

I need to get my distinctively one-eyed face into a fucking cab right away before the Coalition spotters that roost about Fourteenth make me. Naturally, my need being desperate, there's not a fucking cab in sight.

I start trotting, making for Union Square. I should be able to score a cab. Worst case, I can jump the L train to Eighth Avenue.

Border of no-man s-land.

All I need is a little shard of luck and I can cross back over the border and onto turf where no one goes, before Predos tails pick me back up.

Unfortunately, God has no luck to spare tonight.

So when the limo pulls to the curb in the middle of the block and the back door swings open, I don't wait for anyone to point a gun at me before I climb

—Was I unclear about both the urgency of this assignment and the need for utter discretion? Did I in some way fail to communicate to you that your only

option was to go directly to the Horde girl? Did I leave any room for confusion as to what the consequences would be if you failed to execute precisely as I told you?

—No, you were actually very fucking clear about all of that. Did I do something that suggests otherwise?

Predo makes a gesture taking in the downtown streets were leaving behind. —Does this detour not suggest otherwise?

I lean forward from the rear-facing seat.

—No. What it suggests to me is that I'm doing my fucking job. And, for the record, almost getting throttled in the fucking process.

My shaking hand spills more cigarettes into my lap than even I can smoke at once. —Fuck.

I shove them back in the pack, breaking several. —Fuck.

Predo observes. —Nerves, Pitt?

I get an intact cigarette in my mouth and light it.

—Nerves? Hell yes. You ever had Hurleys paws around your neck? —I cannot say that I have.

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