Debts Read Online Free PDF Page A

aside his future problems and concentrates on his current (if perhaps temporary) business.
    Emmett is bent over his work, carefully following the lines of the sketch in blue ink, when someone walks in. He spares a glance. A man in his thirties wearing a leather coat and cowboy boots ambles in, thumbs hitched in his wide leather belt, fingers framing an enormous brass belt buckle with a stylized flame. Emmett doesn’t recognize him, but something about his face has Emmett taking a second, longer look. Medium frame, longish brown hair carefully disheveled … He could be an undercover health inspector. But he’s not. His cowboy boots are silent on the polished floor and his pale eyes have not left Emmett’s face since he entered. They have weight to them, those freaky eyes.
Not right
. The thought pops into Emmett’s mind.
He’s not right
. There’s something hot and malevolent in the gaze, at complete odds with the mild expression on the man’s face. The small hairs on the back of Emmett’s neck stand up. He sets down the needle gun and rises from his stool without realizing it. The customer glances over her shoulder in surprise when she feels the inking has stopped.
    The man doesn’t speak. Now that Emmett is standing, he looks away and eyes the shop lazily. Emmett’s heart pounds with adrenaline and he scans the man for weapons. As if reading his thoughts, the man looks back at Emmett, a small smile playing on his generous lips. He slowly unhooks his thumbs from his belt, and Emmett tenses, ready to leap forward, but the man’s hands remain at his side as those colorless eyes flick up and down, taking their measure,that little mocking smile widening a hair.
    All kinds of strange people walk into the tattoo shop, and normally, no matter how belligerent someone appears, Emmett would be asking how he could help by now. But he stays silent. He’s unsure why his instincts are screaming—there’s nothing about the man that is actually aggressive—but he’s learned to listen to his gut. He hasn’t felt in this much danger since his tour in Afghanistan.
    Obeying those screaming instincts, Emmett steps in front of his customer in an unconscious reflex to protect her, standing between a noncombatant and incoming fire. He rolls his shoulder in, his biceps flexing under his shirt until the sleeves grow taut. His hands in their black latex gloves curl into fists. Still silent, he shakes his head no. As in: No, there’s nothing here for you. No, I won’t help you. No, you’re not welcome here.
    The man’s smile grows wider as his eyes grow hotter. For a moment, Emmett swears they flash red, and the unassuming mask slips to reveal something hideous and full of fury. But like a flickering reception, it’s only for a split second and, in the next moment, the man looks only mildly amused at the lack of service.
    “Excuse me,” the woman in the chair says indignantly, “we’re in the middle of my tattoo, if you don’t mind.” She’s annoyed with Emmett, totally oblivious to the malevolent presence of the man in the shop.
    The man tilts his head as he considers her. For some reason, Emmett’s heart constricts with dread.
She shouldn’t have done that
, he thinks.
She shouldn’t have drawn his attention
.
    The man gives her a small nod, as if deciding,
Yes, she’ll do
, and smiles. She smiles back, suddenly shy, ducking her head.
    “I might come by later, when you aren’t so … busy,” he says to Emmett, his voicesurprisingly high and smooth. Then he shifts his gaze to the woman in the chair, her shirt raised over her right side where the tattoo is taking shape on her ribs. “That tattoo is going to look amazing on you.” His voice deepens slightly, the words smooth and caressing.
    She turns pink with pleasure and bobs her head in thanks. As the man steps out without a backward glance, she stares after him.

Chapter Ten
    The interview is supposed to take place at Bender’s chambers in the county