Cherry Bomb: A Siobhan Quinn Novel Read Online Free PDF

explain later,” she muttered. Whoever was at the door knocked a third time. It was starting to sound like they were using a claw hammer on the wood.
    “Yeah. Hold your horses. I’m coming.”
    Selwyn threaded her way through the maze of books and boxes, relics and furniture, and when she reached the door, she peered through the peephole. There were three dead bolts, along with two sliding chains and a steel bar brace for good measure. She didn’t touch any of them.
    “I told you never to come here,” she said.
    “You promised a week,” the voice on the other side replied. “It’s been a week and a half.”
    She looked over her shoulder at me. I raised an eyebrow and shrugged. She could take care of herself, right, and I wasn’t the one making promises I couldn’t keep—or couldn’t be bothered to keep.
    “Don’t think he’s a happy camper,” I said, not the least bit helpfully. And that’s when she stooped down and opened an old cigar box only a foot or so from the threshold. What with all the junk, I hadn’t noticed it before. Selwyn took out a revolver, a snub-nosed S&W .44 Magnum. She opened the cylinder, checked to see that the gun was loaded, then closed it again. She slowly pulled the hammer back.
    The way she held the gun, I could tell she’d never fired it.
    “It’s been a week and
half,
” the man in the hall reminded her. “Mr. Snow is not a man of infinite patience. You assured him that you know the whereabouts of the Madonna.”
    She had another look through the peephole. “You tell him there’s been a complication. You go back and tell him I’ll be in touch when I know more.”
    I lit another cigarette and glanced at my gym bag, lying next to the sofa. But from what I could hear and smell, the man was just a man, and if worst should come to worst, I wouldn’t need the guns or the crossbow to stop him.
    “That wasn’t the deal, Ms. Smithfield.”
    “Hey, buddy,” I shouted at the door, pitching my voice low, filling it with anger and the assurance of violence. “Why don’t you listen to the lady and fuck off!”
    Silence. Maybe thirty seconds of the stuff.
    “You’re not alone?” the man asked. “Who is in there with you?”
    Selwyn didn’t answer but only looked from the door to me and back again. I noticed she was holding it with its barrel aimed down towards the floor.
    “You’re gonna blow your foot off,” I sighed. She licked her lips, then raised the pistol, pressing the barrel against the door.
    “I’m not going to
ask
you again,” I shouted.
    “And I’ve got a gun,” Selwyn said.
    I rolled my eyes.
    The man in the hallway laughed. It was an ugly laugh, one that made me wonder if I’d misjudged his humanity. I leaned over and unzipped the gym bag. Just in case.
    “We’ll be in touch, Ms. Smithfield,” he said. “We’ll be watching.” And he laughed that laugh again, and I heard his footsteps retreating to the stairwell.
    Selwyn slumped against the door and smacked herself hard in the forehead. I walked over to her, took therevolver from her, and emptied the cylinder. I pocketed the six bullets and put the gun back into the cigar box. She didn’t lift a finger to try and stop me.
    “But you can take care of yourself,” I said. “And last night, this had nothing at all to do with you being up shit creek with this Mr. Snow and needing someone to watch your back, did it?”
    “Not entirely,” she said. She didn’t really seem upset that I was calling her on the ruse. Mostly, she seemed annoyed and maybe just a little embarrassed.
    “Did I maybe neglect to mention how I’m no longer in the hired-hand business?”
    “Quinn, no way you think last night . . . this morning . . . no way you can possibly believe that was all a put-on because I needed protection.”
    “I don’t know, Ms. Smithfield. I’ve met some awfully good con artists. You tell me.”
    “That’s not my real name.”
    I made my way back past the sofa and the love seat to