Everybody Pays Read Online Free

appreciatively.
    A ten-minute drive brought the two of them to what looked like an abandoned shack standing just outside a copse of trees. The plumber turned to the blonde woman: “What the hell is
that
? Looks like nobody’s been here for years.”
    “That’s right,” the blonde woman said, showing him the pistol, now fitted with a tube silencer.
    6
    “I did my time,” the pudgy woman said. “They took my kid away from me, too.” Her facial expression was flat, her skin so taut and shiny it looked glazed. “How come you’re nosing around with all these questions now?”
    “Just routine, ma’am,” the blonde woman said.
    “Yeah, well, the hell with your routine. I’m not even on parole anymore. I know my rights. I’m calling my lawyer.” She turned and picked up the telephone.
    The bullet caught the pudgy woman precisely at the base of her skull. She fell to the floor, the telephone still in her hand.
    7
    “You don’t look like no major player to me,” the black man said. “You said
weight,
okay? That’s keys, not ounces. You want to deal, you got to show me something.”
    “I’ve got it,” the blonde woman said.
    “Where? I don’t see nothing yet. Just a lot of talk.”
    “It’s right here,” the blonde said, taking out her pistol.
    8
    “You’ll like it, honey,” the dark-haired woman said. “There’s a big market for these bondage flicks. Four, maybe five hours’ work for five thousand bucks. In cash. Where’re you gonna get a deal like that?”
    “I don’t know. . . .” The blonde woman hesitated.
    “Oh,
forget
what you heard, all right? Lymon had nothing to do with what happened to that girl they found. The scene is full of sickos, I’ll give you that. But this is strictly legit—well, except for the IRS, of course.” She laughed. “Come on, what do you say?”
    “Where is the studio?”
    “Oh, it’s just outside of town. In this warehouse Lymon has all fixed up. I can take you out there myself.”
    “No, that’s okay. Just give me the address.”
    “I can’t do that, honey. That’s not the way it works. What do you say, want to give it a try?”
    “No,” the blonde woman said, pulling the pistol from her purse.
    9
    “You some kinda social worker?” the heavily muscled Latino asked.
    “That’s right,” the blonde woman said.
    “Yeah, well, you wanna hear me go through the whole damn thing again? She made it up—most of it, anyway. Yeah, sure, I gave her a slap or two. The mouth on her—what was I supposed to do?”
    “You didn’t have to beat her up.”
    “Beat her up? I just slapped her, I told you. That hospital, they was just looking for business, you know what I mean? The Welfare pays them extra when somebody’s gotta stay overnight.”
    “Her cheekbone was broken.”
    “Yeah, that’s what they said. It’s not like I shot her or nothing, right?”
    “Right,” the blonde woman said.
    10
    “How old is your daughter?” the slender, well-dressed man asked.
    “Four,” the blonde woman said.
    “And you’re sure she’s never been . . . ?”
    “Nobody’s ever touched her,” the blonde said.
    “This is a release,” the slender man said. “For photographs and video. If you ever go to the law, you’ll be in it as deep as we are, understand what I’m saying?”
    “Yes. You have the money?”
    “Of course. But first we have to see the goods. Not just a picture. When you bring what we agreed on, you’ll be paid on the spot.”
    The blonde put three bullets into the slender man’s midsection. Then she knelt and fired another slug just behind his ear. She was getting to her feet as a woman entered the room, a camcorder in her hand. She dropped the camcorder and raised her hand to her mouth in a gesture of shock. The blonde raised the pistol.
    11
    The last was a middle-aged Eurasian woman. As she stepped out of her house toward the garage, the last thing she saw was the blonde before the bullet entered her right eye. She was dead before