3 Men and a Body Read Online Free PDF

pressed his arm to his chest to stem
    the bleeding. He ground his teeth to keep from crying out
    in pain.
    “With every phone call, you get another letter,” The
    Carver said, his voice deadly calm. “So unless you want my
    entire name tattooed on your arm, you’d better make
    them count.”
    The man strode out of the room and nodded to someone.
    Mouse walked in holding Wesley’s cel phone, all business.
    “Who do you want me to call?”
    Wesley’s mind raced.
    “You don’t want to keep the boss waiting,” Mouse
    advised.
    “Chance Hol ander.”
    “Is the number in your phone?”
    “Yeah.” His arm was throbbing. “Can you uncuff me, man?
    My hands are numb.”
    “No can do.” Mouse operated the phone with his fat
    fingers, then held it to Wesley’s ear. “The volume is turned
    up so that I can hear everything. No funny stuff, got it?”
    “I lost my sense of humor on the floor,” Wesley said.
    “Watch your step.”
    He prayed that Chance would pick up. After two rings, he
    did. “Wes?”
    “Yeah, it’s me.”
    “Where the fuck are you, man? Your sister is worried sick.
    She came over with some pierced chick and they kicked
    my ass—”
    “Dude, listen. I’m in a bind and I need twenty-five grand.
    Can you help me out?”
    “Twenty-five grand, are you nuts? Have you been
    kidnapped or something?”
    “Or something. Can you get it?”
    “Yeah, sure. But it’l take me a couple of days.”
    “I don’t have a couple of days. What can you scrape
    together in a couple of hours?”
    “Bad timing, dude. I just paid my carriers, and my girls, and
    I bought a new hot tub—”
    “How much?”
    “It was a steal—a ten-thousand-dol ar model, but I got it
    for five.”
    Mouse rol ed his eyes and Wesley grimaced. “Not the hot
    tub! How much can you get together?”
    “I could probably find a grand in the couch cushions, but
    that’s about it.”
    Wesley swal owed against his disappointment. “Okay,
    thanks anyway.”
    “Dude, where are you—”
    Mouse closed the phone. “You know what this means.”
    “Come on, man,” Wesley pleaded. “Give me a mul igan.”
    Mouse frowned. “What’s a mul igan?”
    Note to self: Don’t use golf terms when negotiating with
    street criminals. “A freebie. No one has to know.”
    “No can do.” The big man went to the door, opened it and
    shook his head.
    The Carver came in stil chewing his sandwich, and sighed
    heavily, as if Wesley were causing him to miss his favorite
    TV show. He opened the switchblade. “Hold him, Mouse.”
    Wesley resisted, but could only look away. It took more
    strokes to carve an A into his skin, more finesse, more
    blood. He screamed like a girl.
    The Carver used a white handkerchief to wipe the blood
    off his knife. “I hope for your sake your next call is more
    productive.” He retracted the blade and left the room.
    Mouse held up the phone. “Who now?”
    Wesley couldn’t think for the pain. His blood was
    everywhere.
    “Come on, kid. We all want to go home. Give me a name.”
    “Liz Fischer. The number is in there.”
    Mouse dialed it, then held the phone up to Wesley’s
    mouth.
    Liz had been his father’s attorney and had gotten Wesley
    off on probation when he’d been busted for hacking into
    the courthouse database. Recently they’d started
    banging—everything that Chance had told him about older
    chicks was true. Carlotta would have an aneurysm if she
    knew.
    Liz answered on the first ring. “Wes? Are you okay? Jack
    Terry called me asking if I’d seen you.”
    So Carlotta was beating the bushes. “Uh, I’m fine…for now.
    But I have a situation here and I need some cash. A lot of
    it.”
    “How much?”
    “Twenty-five grand.”
    She gasped. “What kind of trouble are you in?”
    “The expensive kind.”
    “Wesley, you know I adore you. But I can’t get involved in
    whatever mess you’re in. I have my career and reputation
    to think about.”
    He tried to keep his voice steady. “I wouldn’t