The Baddest Ass (Billy Lafitte #3) Read Online Free Page B
Author: Anthony Neil Smith
biker.
West leans towards Lafitte. The man smells dark, like the woods at night. "I don't get it."
"You wanted to warn me about this hit, okay. I didn't need to hear it from you, but you made the effort. I appreciate that. So if that..." Click. "...if that batshit preacher cop is giving you a hard time, let's say I'm returning the favor. I'll keep an eye out, all right? You don't breathe a word." Click. "That's just the way it is."
West hunches his shoulders. Protection from the guy he's supposed to kill. Right. Not like Ri'Chess won't send more assassins. West gets it—he's expendable, whether he kills Lafitte or not. Once he's out of the way, how will they deal with West? Fuck. He's supposed to be here for years . Why does it feel like he might not make it through the week?
West puts his hand on the mouse, runs the arrow around the screen, and says, "Show me how to do this."
*
Garner's in his grill. "It's good, I get it. Get close to him."
Steve's at his right. "Wasting time."
"It's not a rush job."
"It sure as hell's not a long one, either."
Garner scrunches his eyebrows—thick caterpillar things—and says, while looking at Steve, "You know, West, our friend here tried to buddy up to Lafitte, too. And Lafitte let him. Weirdest thing I might've ever seen inside."
"That's enough."
"Like Lafitte was his big brother or something. I don't even think the man cared what Little Stevie did on the outside, either."
Steve says, too loud, "That's enough."
Gets him shoved by Garner. The slap echoes three, four, five times. Steve steps back, rubs his chest. The cop's open hand folds into a wagging finger. He keeps going.
"So there's one day when some new piece of garbage, excuse my language, waltzes in here. He's got the Mexicans on his side, right? Thinks PC is going to be like a siesta for him and his boys. Loud muchachos. Steve asks this spic to keep it down a little. Brave boy. He knows Lafitte's got his back. Except..." Garner blows on his fingers, fans them like it's all gone. "Not this time. These Mexicans were going to slice and dice. Steve runs back to Lafitte, and you know what happened?" Garner looks over West's shoulder at Steve. "Want to tell him?"
Steve keeps rubbing his chest, stepping back and back until he's just not around anymore.
Garner gives West the gummy smile. "Stone cold silence. Lafitte shut Steve out. It was fine when all was good, but when Steve got a big head about his friend solving problems for him, down came the wall. Those Mexicans, man, they whipped up on Stevie like you wouldn't believe. If it hadn't been PC, he'd been the same as you." Garner cupped his fingers around his wrist, pushed and pulled, pushed and pulled. "Probably not as big as what you got. That nigga had a massive dick."
Cramps all over. West puts his hands on his hips. Getting sick. He lets go of a loud fart, and he knows what's next. "I gotta go."
Garner waves the stink away. "Or did you already?"
West makes quick time back to his cell, little bitty steps.
Chapter 4
The only times West feels safe is sitting at the computer beside Lafitte, or locked in his cell at night to sleep. Even then, he's on a hair trigger listening for the bolt to unlock and have something else horrible happen to him.
Lafitte doesn't mention the favor again. West sits at his table for meals but still maintains a respectful distance. Doesn't talk. Offers his dessert sometimes—his stomach can't deal with sweets anymore—but is always refused. They don't talk outside of the computer room, and West begins to wonder if Lafitte would really have his back at all. But days go by and that old black guy, name's Cooker, and Slick Steve leave him alone. And Garner leaves him alone. Always around, but no more personal visits or stories or any of that.
Until the day no one comes and gets him for work. He figures at first it's just an off day. No files to transfer. So he wastes his time, tries to read but gets bored. The fuck is with the
West leans towards Lafitte. The man smells dark, like the woods at night. "I don't get it."
"You wanted to warn me about this hit, okay. I didn't need to hear it from you, but you made the effort. I appreciate that. So if that..." Click. "...if that batshit preacher cop is giving you a hard time, let's say I'm returning the favor. I'll keep an eye out, all right? You don't breathe a word." Click. "That's just the way it is."
West hunches his shoulders. Protection from the guy he's supposed to kill. Right. Not like Ri'Chess won't send more assassins. West gets it—he's expendable, whether he kills Lafitte or not. Once he's out of the way, how will they deal with West? Fuck. He's supposed to be here for years . Why does it feel like he might not make it through the week?
West puts his hand on the mouse, runs the arrow around the screen, and says, "Show me how to do this."
*
Garner's in his grill. "It's good, I get it. Get close to him."
Steve's at his right. "Wasting time."
"It's not a rush job."
"It sure as hell's not a long one, either."
Garner scrunches his eyebrows—thick caterpillar things—and says, while looking at Steve, "You know, West, our friend here tried to buddy up to Lafitte, too. And Lafitte let him. Weirdest thing I might've ever seen inside."
"That's enough."
"Like Lafitte was his big brother or something. I don't even think the man cared what Little Stevie did on the outside, either."
Steve says, too loud, "That's enough."
Gets him shoved by Garner. The slap echoes three, four, five times. Steve steps back, rubs his chest. The cop's open hand folds into a wagging finger. He keeps going.
"So there's one day when some new piece of garbage, excuse my language, waltzes in here. He's got the Mexicans on his side, right? Thinks PC is going to be like a siesta for him and his boys. Loud muchachos. Steve asks this spic to keep it down a little. Brave boy. He knows Lafitte's got his back. Except..." Garner blows on his fingers, fans them like it's all gone. "Not this time. These Mexicans were going to slice and dice. Steve runs back to Lafitte, and you know what happened?" Garner looks over West's shoulder at Steve. "Want to tell him?"
Steve keeps rubbing his chest, stepping back and back until he's just not around anymore.
Garner gives West the gummy smile. "Stone cold silence. Lafitte shut Steve out. It was fine when all was good, but when Steve got a big head about his friend solving problems for him, down came the wall. Those Mexicans, man, they whipped up on Stevie like you wouldn't believe. If it hadn't been PC, he'd been the same as you." Garner cupped his fingers around his wrist, pushed and pulled, pushed and pulled. "Probably not as big as what you got. That nigga had a massive dick."
Cramps all over. West puts his hands on his hips. Getting sick. He lets go of a loud fart, and he knows what's next. "I gotta go."
Garner waves the stink away. "Or did you already?"
West makes quick time back to his cell, little bitty steps.
Chapter 4
The only times West feels safe is sitting at the computer beside Lafitte, or locked in his cell at night to sleep. Even then, he's on a hair trigger listening for the bolt to unlock and have something else horrible happen to him.
Lafitte doesn't mention the favor again. West sits at his table for meals but still maintains a respectful distance. Doesn't talk. Offers his dessert sometimes—his stomach can't deal with sweets anymore—but is always refused. They don't talk outside of the computer room, and West begins to wonder if Lafitte would really have his back at all. But days go by and that old black guy, name's Cooker, and Slick Steve leave him alone. And Garner leaves him alone. Always around, but no more personal visits or stories or any of that.
Until the day no one comes and gets him for work. He figures at first it's just an off day. No files to transfer. So he wastes his time, tries to read but gets bored. The fuck is with the
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