Page 46 of Edge of Secrets

“You know how to answer a damn phone,” he said. “Keep it in your apron pocket at the restaurant. I’ll call to check on you. And I’ll give you holy hell if you’re not reachable.”

I laughed out loud. “Don’t bug me while I’m working, Burke.”

Chapter Sixteen

The guy worked fast. He was fucking her, already.

John chewed the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood. Antonella disappeared into the Sunset Grill, smiling, her face rosy red. Saddlesore from being fucked all night long. That dirty little slut.

Burke’s silver Mercedes pulled out into Eighth Avenue traffic.

He was already chronically angry, dealing with that pinheaded dipshit Haupt night and day. John was starting to consider resorting to recreational murder just to unload some fucking stress, or he was going to start having panic attacks.

Nell had been celibate all those weeks that John had been watching her. Such a good little girl. Sleeping alone, with her piles of books, like a sexy, succulent little nun in her maidenly scholarly chamber. Not anymore. She’d spoiled his fantasy.

She would pay for that. And that scenario was its own pleasant fantasy. He was good at making the best of situations. Turning them into opportunities for satisfaction.

He’d have to punish her severely for soiling herself. Just like her sister, cheating on him with that randy carpenter, Knightly. That dumb fuckhead was slated to die a slow and ugly death himself, as soon as it was convenient for John to organize it. Same with this rich computer prick.

The list of possible targets for recreational murder was growing.

He wondered idly if the youngest girl was as much of a slut as her sisters. Probably more so, with the tattoo, the nose ring, the painted van like some relic from the sixties.

They were all misbehaving bitches. He’d punish them all. Thinking about it made him hard, but speed dialing Haupt’s number wilted him fast.

He gritted his teeth, resigned to the scolding he was about to receive.

The geezer picked up with no salutation and just waited for a report, line open. Telegraphing his disgust his flat silence.

“She’s back at the restaurant now,” John said. “Burke brought her in his own car. Looks like he’s fucking her.”

“And upon what do you base this deduction?”

John’s lip curled. “The way he stuck his tongue down her throat before she walked into the restaurant was my first clue.”

“Tell me more about Burke,” Haupt demanded.

John rifled through the documents he’d spent the night collecting. “He could be trouble,” he admitted. “Ex-undercover field agent from the NSA, turned successful businessman. Designs software for the NSA, the CIA, Homeland Security, and various others. Close connections with various law enforcement agencies. I had difficulty getting info on him. Most of it’s top secret.”

“I see. Then you must be happy, John. Now you have a plausible justification for your incompetence, eh?”

John tapped on the console of his car with his fingernails and considered various options in killing this old shitbird after he’d gotten paid. In fact, he was starting to consider fucking the old goat out of the entire prize. At this point, that was the only outcome that could make this constant, grinding humiliation worthwhile.

And if it ruined his professional reputation, who cared? He’d be so rich, it wouldn’t matter. He would retire. Live high on the hog. Kill for fun when the pressure built up.

“It does make things a little bit more complicated,” he said evenly.

“Does it? And the idiot carpenter with his violin was complicated for you too, eh? The carpenter was no fucking NSA secret agent. Did Turturro have any luck with the younger sister?”

“No,” he said reluctantly. “He combed that crafts fair for hours. Apparently she never showed up. Or maybe she left early.”

“Of course. She is not an idiot, unlike others I could name. Stay right on Antonella, John. Do not delegate. Do not lose her again. Your hired muscle has, so far, failed miserably to help. Did she take any of her bugs when she went to Burke’s apartment?”

“Just the laptop. I put a listening device in it.”

“Good. Stay on her at all times, no matter where she is. Failure is not an option.”

Haupt hung up, and John’s teeth ground until his jaw ached. He needed to kill someone, and soon. The asshole who was fucking Antonella was the perfect choice. He was still smarting from Burke’s brazen challenge, through the camera.

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