BooksBarbecue
Back Crime Song Save as PDF
Chapters (95)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright
  3. Dedication
  4. Epigraph
  5. One
  6. Two
  7. Three
  8. Four
  9. Five
  10. Six
  11. Seven
  12. Eight
  13. Nine
  14. Ten
  15. Eleven
  16. Twelve
  17. Thirteen
  18. Fourteen
  19. Fifteen
  20. Sixteen
  21. Seventeen
  22. Eighteen
  23. Nineteen
  24. Twenty
  25. Twenty-One
  26. Twenty-Two
  27. Twenty-Three
  28. Twenty-Four
  29. Twenty-Five
  30. Twenty-Six
  31. Twenty-Seven
  32. Twenty-Eight
  33. Twenty-Nine
  34. Thirty
  35. Thirty-One
  36. Thirty-Two
  37. Thirty-Three
  38. Thirty-Four
  39. Thirty-Five
  40. Thirty-Six
  41. Thirty-Seven
  42. Thirty-Eight
  43. Thirty-Nine
  44. Forty
  45. Forty-One
  46. Forty-Two
  47. Forty-Three
  48. Forty-Four
  49. Forty-Five
  50. Forty-Six
  51. Forty-Seven
  52. Forty-Eight
  53. Forty-Nine
  54. Fifty
  55. Fifty-One
  56. Fifty-Two
  57. Fifty-Three
  58. Fifty-Four
  59. Fifty-Five
  60. Fifty-Six
  61. Fifty-Seven
  62. Fifty-Eight
  63. Fifty-Nine
  64. Sixty
  65. Sixty-One
  66. Sixty-Two
  67. Sixty-Three
  68. Sixty-Four
  69. Sixty-Five
  70. Sixty-Six
  71. Sixty-Seven
  72. Sixty-Eight
  73. Sixty-Nine
  74. Seventy
  75. Seventy-One
  76. Seventy-Two
  77. Seventy-Three
  78. Seventy-Four
  79. Seventy-Five
  80. Seventy-Six
  81. Seventy-Seven
  82. Seventy-Eight
  83. Seventy-Nine
  84. Eighty
  85. Eighty-One
  86. Eighty-Two
  87. Eighty-Three
  88. Eighty-Four
  89. Eighty-Five
  90. Eighty-Six
  91. Eighty-Seven
  92. Acknowledgements
  93. About the Author
  94. Also by David Swinson
  95. Thank you for buying this ebook, published by Hachette Digital.

I’m walking down the creaky stairs back to the living room when I get another rushing neural-wave crash and, with that, a great idea. It’s like a thunderclap. Sort of gives me the chills.

Fifty-Four

Fifty-Four

I check the time again. Almost 2:00 a.m.

I snort some more of my own shit up, ’cause I don’t want to chance spilling any of the new stuff on this filthy carpet. I’ve never had to resort to picking coke bits off the floor before, and I’m not about to now. So I leave it wrapped and in the backpack, where it’s safe.

I find a wooden chair that I wipe off and move close to the front window so I can peek through the blinds and catch them walking toward the house. I got everything I need at the ready—stun gun, zip ties, and duct tape. I have the face mask off until they come. Too damn hot with it on. I’m still wearing my suit jacket, because I don’t want to drape it over anything in this pit. Who knows what’ll cling to it? I’m definitely going to have to drop the suit and shirt off at the dry cleaner first thing tomorrow, maybe even toss my shoes. Damn—it’s like the smell is wrapped around me now. How can these mopes live with that? The thought of that pisses me off even more.

Can’t deny that I’m a little excited, mostly because of the blow I’ve been snorting. I finish what’s left of the whiskey in my sport bottle, secure the top, and stick it back in the pack. I look around the living room, spot the bottle of Jameson I saw when I first came in, get up, and bring it back to the chair. I unscrew the cap to smell it. Seems okay. I click on my Streamlight, shine it into the bottle, and don’t notice anything floating in there, so I take a small swig. It’s good. Another swig. Better out of glass than plastic. After a couple more drinks I feel more relaxed.

I notice car headlights turning onto Riggs from 13th. The car slows, passes the house. Not them. Got my heart racing again for a second, so I take another drink. All of a sudden it comes to me—what if they bring some girls home or, even worse, a few people to party with? That’ll fuck everything up.

I work it out in my head some more, how I’m going to do this. Feels good. Even better is that I have no doubts after I’ve run it through my head a couple of times.

After 2:30, another car rolls around from 13th.

It looks like their car.

It is their car.