Roadkill by Cheryl Bradshaw

Author:Cheryl Bradshaw [Bradshaw, Cheryl]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-10-07T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 27

Having successfully dropped Nora off with Max’s sister per Max’s instructions, it was time for Adam to do what he did best. He placed an untraceable call and listened to the instructions that followed. The subject on today’s docket was Mr. Charles VanHorn, a wealthy casino owner who had been cheating on his wife with the neighbor across the street every Tuesday and Friday morning between the hours of six and eight while his wife was away at spin class, maintaining an impressive figure for her unappreciative, older husband.

The affair had gone on for a few months, and Mr. VanHorn believed his wife was none the wiser. If there was one thing Adam had learned in his profession, women were far more intelligent than their husbands gave them credit for. Being suspicious in nature, it was a rare instance when a woman wasn’t able to snuff out the dastardly dealings of the man she was in a relationship with.

And find out, she had.

She’d confirmed the liaison by doing a little surveillance on her own. Afterward, she felt certain there was only one logical and beneficial course of action to take. She needed to kill her husband and the tramp he’d been sleeping with, even though the tramp in question just so happened to be her own cousin.

Vicious? Maybe.

Possible? Yes.

It was the kind of job Adam relished—double the victims, double the pay, half the recon work. He had a strict policy of not dating clients, but this time, it was being put to the test. In a prior meeting with Mrs. VanHorn to discuss the details of the forthcoming double murder, he’d seen her wicked cutthroat side, and he found her hard to resist. He’d also seen something else: her very fine, very toned assets.

Parking a few blocks away at the back of a grocery store parking lot with security cameras that only recorded the first thirty feet past the store’s entry, he stepped out in a black wig, aviator sunglasses, and a ball cap. He hiked the distance to the VanHorn house, slipping through a side window Mrs. VanHorn had left open for him. He removed his shoes and followed the raucous voices across the hall to the master bedroom. He found Mr. VanHorn and the neighbor on the bed in full thrust, so swept up in the throes of passion, they hadn’t noticed him come in. Adam could have popped them both right then and there, called the cleaner, and been done with it. But he’d always preferred a bit of conversation first, a healthy amount of build-up, leading to the main event.

“Hello,” Adam said.

Mr. VanHorn’s eyes widened. The neighbor tried to scream. Adam silenced her before she let a single squeak out, and she slinked over on the bed like a limp noodle. There’d be no talking to her today. What a shame.

A horrified Mr. VanHorn seemed eager to speak, but the panic attack he was experiencing wasn’t allowing for conversation just yet.

“Take a breath, Mr. VanHorn,” Adam said.

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