Hell or High Water Read Online Free PDF Page A

down Johnny’s spine.
    “Did you have knowledge of his plans?”  
    “No, sir.” Thank you, baby Jesus.
    Johnny could see the boss’s jaw nerves jumping like a cat set on fire. His teeth were clamped shut, making his smile even more menacing.
    “I thought not.” He moved at a brisk pace toward the south side of the distribution center. “Everything else under control?”
    “Yes, sir.” With a swipe of Johnny’s ID, they entered what was known as The Market.  
    Through a brilliant piece of redesign and construction, this area was hidden from the public eye. The warehouse functioned as a cover for the real business. A shipping manager and his supervisors, housed in the north side of the building, were responsible for the freight. Their exorbitant salaries and fear of retribution guaranteed their silence.  
    “You shipped the latest Market order without any problems?”  
    “This morning, after I confirmed the transfer of funds, the last two went out with a load of dishwashing detergent.”  
    “Excellent.”
    Johnny stepped to the side and let the boss take the lead. They traveled down the hall past the soundproof rooms. Mr. A paused and looked inside one.
    “I’ll make sure everything is cleaned thoroughly.” Johnny didn’t think the cot was much in the way of furniture, but the room came with a toilet and sink. It beat sleeping on the floor.  
    The boss passed the conference room, complete with a small stage and collection of photography and video equipment. The walls, also soundproofed, allowed privacy for picture taking and live bidding.  
    Mr. A strode to Hank’s office. Back rigid as if a fireplace poker had been surgically implanted up his ass, he stared for a second then silently turned away and moved down the hall.  
    Curious, Johnny glanced in at Hank. Fuck. He sat at his desk with his head bent over a double line of white powder. Greasy brown hair fell over his forehead. Why did the old man tolerate this shit? If Hank knew too much, there were ways to deal with him.
      Johnny’s heart rate ratcheted up a notch. He hoped babysitting wasn’t one of his new responsibilities. Be a damn sight easier to kill the useless son of a bitch.
    The boss unlocked his private office and stepped inside. His face showed no emotion when his eyes met Johnny’s. Johnny’s ball sack tightened, squeezing his nuts. A fucking shark’s eyes reflected more warmth.  
    “Tell Hank I wish to speak with him.”
    “I’m here.” Hank spoke from the doorway. He rubbed his nose with the back of his hand and sauntered over to a chair. “I guess you heard.”
    “You’re an imbecile.” Mr. A’s face flared red, yet his tone remained low and deep-freeze icy. “I’d ask what you were thinking, but the answer’s apparent—you weren’t.”
    “How else am I gonna find out if the Taylor bitch has my ring? Johnny wasted the Vaughn girl before I could make her give it back. If it wasn’t in her house, she must’ve passed it to the Taylor woman. I would have asked before I killed her.”  
    “Johnny followed my orders. Which is more than I can say for you.”
    “Wouldn’t have happened if you’d waited to kill the girl.” Hank sniffed and shrugged his shoulders, apparently unfazed by the boss’s piercing glare.  
    “The Vaughn girl had escaped, forcing me to refund money to an unhappy buyer. And Hank, she identified you as her attacker. Her death was necessary.”
    “So the boys fucked up both tries.” Hank defended the two idiots he’d sent to bring the Taylor woman to the warehouse. “If that ring gets in the wrong hands, the initials on it will lead the cops right to my door. And you don’t want that to happen.”
    Johnny waited for an outburst from Mr. A, but instead, he sighed a long drawn-out breath, staring at Hank as if he was no more than shit on the bottom of a shoe.  
    Johnny headed for the door.
    “Stay.” The command sliced through the air with the finality of death.  
    Johnny