Dog Eat Dog Read Online Free PDF Page B

goddamned Marlboros, he thought.
    He brought out the wooden matches. Would it blow up?
    If it blows, it blows. Fuck it. He snapped a match alight with a thumbnail and pitched it into the kerosene.
    As the bluish flame crept across the ground, Diesel raced the other way.
    No explosion, but the fire was swift. He saw it light as he went over the fence, and it was blazing high by the time he reached the oak tree.
    He was on the highway, half a mile away, when the fire engines with screaming sirens and flashing lights came the other way. Dutifully he pulled over and watched them go by. “Good luck, fellas,” he said with a grin.
    On the interstate, he was exhilarated by what he’d done. The pressure was off. Jimmy the Face would appreciate what he’d done. Diesel liked torch jobs. They were easy. The problem was finding customers to trust. He couldn’t advertise in the classifieds: ARSONIST FOR HIRE. Too bad. Such things were gifts. What would Troy say? “A bird’s nest on the ground.”
    It was 3:30 A.M. Diesel had gotten home and was in the kitchen eating cornflakes and milk. The telephone rang. He looked at the clock. “Who the fuck …?” He picked up the receiver. “Hello.”
    “It’s me, Mad Dog.”
    “What’s up, man?”
    Gloria appeared at the kitchen door. “He called three times.”
    “I need help, bro’,” Mad Dog said. “I’m in big trouble, man. I’m busted up here. It’s a chickenshit credit card beef, but if I don’t make bail by Monday, the parole officer’s gonna put a parole detainer on me. You know how it is.”
    Diesel understood. “What kinda bail?”
    “Just fifteen hundred. A hundred and a half to the bondsman and security.”
    “What about Sheila?”
    “She’s in Colorado visitin’ her folks. I don’t have the number. I got fifteen bills at the pad.”
    “Send the bondsman. He’s gonna make money. Throw him a little extra.”
    “Naw, man, I don’t trust bail bondsmen. What if he stole it and said it wasn’t there.”
    Diesel said nothing. He resented this imposition even though he knew he would go when the plea came. It came next:
    “Look, man, I swear I got the dough at the pad. I wouldn’t bullshit you about that. I’ll kick back what you put up … and give you whatever you want.”
    “You already got it, right?”
    “Yeah, homeboy, swear to God.”
    “ That really makes me believe you. Ha, ha, ha …”
    “Hey, man, don’t put me on. Please, man, don’t leave me in the slammer.”
    Diesel would have let Mad Dog McCain rot in jail—but what would Troy want? He would say to post the bail. “I need five hundred for my expenses.”
    “You got it, man. As soon as I raise.”
    “Don’t fuck me around, Dog. If you’re bullshittin’, we’re gonna have serious motherfuckin’ trouble, y’know what I mean?”
    “Yeah, D. We know each other. I wouldn’t fuck you around.”
    “Okay. The cavalry is on the way. I’m rollin’ right now. I should have you out sometime tomorrow.”
    “I’m countin’ on you.”
    “Hey, if I say a pissant will pull a plow, hitch the harness to him.”

Chapter 03
    3
    The speedometer hovered between eighty-five and ninety as the Mustang tore north along Interstate 5. The lush vineyards and rolling landscape of the Napa Valley became rougher terrain as the interstate climbed the Sierras. The car’s tires whined on the curves and it flew past the giant trucks that inched up the grades. Passing Lake Shasta, Diesel looked at rows of houseboats that waited at the docks. That would be fun. Maybe after Troy had a girlfriend they could rent one for a few days, explore the many miles of waterway. Gloria would like it for sure. Then again, it might not be ideal for Troy, who preferred bright lights and fast action.
    He really loved his friend. “My main man,” he muttered, thinking that he would follow his pal through the door into Hell if Troy said there was a score down there. Troy had been the leader from their first meeting in