Girl of Vengeance by Charles Sheehan-Miles

Author:Charles Sheehan-Miles [Sheehan-Miles, Charles]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2014-09-12T16:00:00+00:00

Marky Lovecchio. May 7.

The phone ringing was harsh in Marky Lovecchio’s ear. Who the fuck was calling him at six o’clock in the morning?

He took his hand off the tits of the stripper he’d brought back from the bar the night before. He’d flashed several hundred-dollar bills at the club, enough to get the attention of several of the girls. Then he’d made his pick and brought her back to the cheap and nasty motel room.

She was hot, but a lousy lay. Fucking tease. He decided he was going to wake her up with a good fucking whether she liked it or not.

He untangled himself from her then picked up his phone.

“What?”

It was Oz. “Lovecchio. I trust you’re having a good time spending my money?”

“It’s my money now. I took care of him, didn’t I?”

“You did. And that was good work. But I have another job for you.”

Lovecchio muttered a curse. The girl was stirring; bleach blonde hair stringy along her back.

“I’m not in the market right now, Oz. I need a little time to relax.”

“You can relax after you’re finished, Lovecchio. The woman who Larsden let get away? She’s with her daughter at the hospital in Abbotsford.”

“Canada?” Lovecchio blurted.

The girl was definitely stirring now. She slid out of the bed and walked toward the bathroom.

“Yes, Lovecchio. Canada. The woman is in room 201. I don’t care what happens to the daughter, but kill the woman.”

Christ. He said, “How much?”

“We’ll call it half a million. That’s what I was going to pay your friend before he fucked it up.”

“Whatever. Fine. I’ll do it. How soon?”

“By tonight.”

He started to respond, but Oz hung up.

“Hey,” he called to the girl in the bathroom. “Come here!”

She muttered something incoherent. He looked around. Her skimpy dress was on the floor.

A second later she came out of the bathroom. He looked at her, his eyes grazing over her obvious implants, the curve of her hip. He didn’t care if she couldn’t fuck. He’d do the work. “Come here,” he said.

She shook her head, a cigarette dangling out of her mouth. She reached for her dress. Bitch. He stood and walked toward her. “You’re not finished yet.”

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