Cut Throat Read Online Free Page A
something sweet.”
Wilson grinned in spite of himself. “A sweet for a sweet lady…hmm, yes, I think I can do that.”
LaQueen nodded, then gave him a royal wave as she sailed past him toward her desk.
“Be off with you then. You’re letting in the cold air.”
Wilson’s grin widened as he pushed the door shut, then headed for his SUV. She was maddening, but she really was the best damned secretary he’d ever had.
Paulie Beach was a user. He used people and drugs and situations to slide through life with as little effort as possible. For the second time in his life of crime, his mother had put her home up as collateral to bond him out of jail. Only this time, he’d skipped out on his court date, knowing full well that he would be on his way to prison again if he showed. It bothered him some that his mother was in a bind, but so was he. He couldn’t afford to go back to lockup. He’d left too many enemies behind.
Wilson pulled around behind the Western Trails Motel and parked. According to Paulie’s mother, who’d finally decided her son wasn’t worth losing her home for, he’d called her from here the night before last. Wilson didn’t know if he was still in residence, but he was going to find out soon enough.
He got out and headed for the office. The woman behind the counter glanced up as he walked in, then stood a little straighter when she got a better look.
“Need a room?” she asked, and fingered a loose bleached-yellow curl.
He flashed his badge. “I’m looking for Paulie Beach. Is he still in room 216?”
Her smile turned into a frown. “We’re not supposed to give out—”
Wilson leaned across the counter. “Lady, the man I’m after is willing for his mother to lose her home rather than show his ass in court. I’m not in a very good mood, so don’t start making excuses for your clientele. You and I both know most of them rent by the hour, so if you want me to notify some friends in vice that you’re running a little something on the side, just say the word.”
Her expression shifted to one of defiance, but she didn’t mince words.
“Yeah, he’s still in there, but if you bust somethin’ up when you take him down, you’re payin’ for it.”
“And by the same token, if you call and warn Paulie I’m coming up, I’ll come after you for aiding and abetting a fugitive.”
She blanched, then held up her hands and stepped back as Wilson left the office.
He quickly moved into the shadows of a stairwell, glancing up to the second-level balcony and the long row of motel-room doors. The cold air, mixed with the warmth of his exhaled breath, was marked by small, cloud-like vapors. Despite the chill, he could smell something rotting from a nearby garbage bin and wrinkled his nose in disgust.
As he started up the stairs, he saw the corner of a maid’s cart and knew she was already on her rounds, cleaning rooms. He didn’t think Paulie was armed, but he couldn’t take a chance on getting an innocent person hurt. Once he reached the second level, he hurried down to the open doorway where the maid was cleaning and flashed his badge.
“Stay inside,” he said quickly.
The woman’s fear was evident as he closed the door between them, then hurried down to 216.
The curtains were pulled, and there was a thin layer of frost on the windows. He stood to the side of the door and listened, but heard nothing, no one moving around. Too cold to linger, Wilson knew there was only one way to rouse Beach and only one way out of the room.
Wilson made a fist and pounded on the door, but got no response. He pounded again, this time louder and longer.
“Get lost!” someone shouted from another room. “Paulie! It’s Wilson McKay. Get your ass out here now.”
There was a long moment of silence; then Wilson heard footsteps hit the floor. He put his hands on his hips and stared at the curtains, knowing
Wilson grinned in spite of himself. “A sweet for a sweet lady…hmm, yes, I think I can do that.”
LaQueen nodded, then gave him a royal wave as she sailed past him toward her desk.
“Be off with you then. You’re letting in the cold air.”
Wilson’s grin widened as he pushed the door shut, then headed for his SUV. She was maddening, but she really was the best damned secretary he’d ever had.
Paulie Beach was a user. He used people and drugs and situations to slide through life with as little effort as possible. For the second time in his life of crime, his mother had put her home up as collateral to bond him out of jail. Only this time, he’d skipped out on his court date, knowing full well that he would be on his way to prison again if he showed. It bothered him some that his mother was in a bind, but so was he. He couldn’t afford to go back to lockup. He’d left too many enemies behind.
Wilson pulled around behind the Western Trails Motel and parked. According to Paulie’s mother, who’d finally decided her son wasn’t worth losing her home for, he’d called her from here the night before last. Wilson didn’t know if he was still in residence, but he was going to find out soon enough.
He got out and headed for the office. The woman behind the counter glanced up as he walked in, then stood a little straighter when she got a better look.
“Need a room?” she asked, and fingered a loose bleached-yellow curl.
He flashed his badge. “I’m looking for Paulie Beach. Is he still in room 216?”
Her smile turned into a frown. “We’re not supposed to give out—”
Wilson leaned across the counter. “Lady, the man I’m after is willing for his mother to lose her home rather than show his ass in court. I’m not in a very good mood, so don’t start making excuses for your clientele. You and I both know most of them rent by the hour, so if you want me to notify some friends in vice that you’re running a little something on the side, just say the word.”
Her expression shifted to one of defiance, but she didn’t mince words.
“Yeah, he’s still in there, but if you bust somethin’ up when you take him down, you’re payin’ for it.”
“And by the same token, if you call and warn Paulie I’m coming up, I’ll come after you for aiding and abetting a fugitive.”
She blanched, then held up her hands and stepped back as Wilson left the office.
He quickly moved into the shadows of a stairwell, glancing up to the second-level balcony and the long row of motel-room doors. The cold air, mixed with the warmth of his exhaled breath, was marked by small, cloud-like vapors. Despite the chill, he could smell something rotting from a nearby garbage bin and wrinkled his nose in disgust.
As he started up the stairs, he saw the corner of a maid’s cart and knew she was already on her rounds, cleaning rooms. He didn’t think Paulie was armed, but he couldn’t take a chance on getting an innocent person hurt. Once he reached the second level, he hurried down to the open doorway where the maid was cleaning and flashed his badge.
“Stay inside,” he said quickly.
The woman’s fear was evident as he closed the door between them, then hurried down to 216.
The curtains were pulled, and there was a thin layer of frost on the windows. He stood to the side of the door and listened, but heard nothing, no one moving around. Too cold to linger, Wilson knew there was only one way to rouse Beach and only one way out of the room.
Wilson made a fist and pounded on the door, but got no response. He pounded again, this time louder and longer.
“Get lost!” someone shouted from another room. “Paulie! It’s Wilson McKay. Get your ass out here now.”
There was a long moment of silence; then Wilson heard footsteps hit the floor. He put his hands on his hips and stared at the curtains, knowing
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