Killing The Rat (An Organized Crime Thriller) Read Online Free PDF

actually.
    But the Panthers were in Charlotte, too far from the ocean. Tommy wanted to be near the water. To fish, snorkel, lay around and get tan, look at the college girls in their bikinis.
    Tommy finished the sports section and looked at his watch again. It was almost time. He breezed through the last of the paper, put it on top of the rest of the sections, then scooped them all up and set them in the chair next to him.
    This was the good part. Thinking about his new future. Not worrying about Romano and all the bullshit his life had become. Now, it was gonna be all broads and booze. Bloody Marys in the morning, banging a hottie all day, then shrimp cocktails and ice cold beer in the evenings. A big cigar and a glass of Scotch to polish off the day. This was the life he’d always dreamed about. The life he always knew he deserved.
    He drained the last of his coffee, set the cup down and checked his watch.
    It was time.
     
    ***
     
    The Prescott Hotel was in the heart of Ann Arbor, at the intersection of First Street and Main. It was a turn-of-the-century beast, Federal style, with a porticoed entrance. Black shutters framed white windows. Four stories with sixty rooms or so.
    It was the kind of hotel Vincenzo Romano would never think of. In fact, it would be the last place anyone would look for a Mob rat, Tommy thought to himself. Internally, he winced at the word “rat.” But that’s what he was. The kind of guy his former comrades would love to perforate and drop into Lake Huron. Tommy didn’t care. Better a live rat than a dead wiseguy.
    Besides, how many other rats got to stay in luxurious hotels like this one?
     He entered through the revolving door complete with brass handles and brass kickplate. The noise from the street ended abruptly. The lobby was plush with a thick Oriental rug and a deep leather living room set. A burled walnut coffee table held magazines and a phone. A small piano sat to the right of the lobby. A front desk was on the left. It was made of dark wood and on the wall behind it were two modern paintings. A short brunette was typing on the computer with a phone in the crook of her neck. She had on a blue blazer with a nametag featuring the logo of the hotel. The name tag said, “Connie.” She glanced up as Tommy passed and gave him an automatic smile. He ignored her and headed straight for the elevators.
    Tommy hit the up arrow and waited. He took in the rich, polished wood. The marble floor. It lived up to the descriptions he’d read on the Internet. ThePrescott.com touted the hotel as a five-star treasure, a place called by Midwest Living magazine as a “luxurious haven for those with a strong desire to get away from it all and be pampered.” Well, Tommy reasoned, he wanted to get away from it all, and he definitely wanted to be pampered. His idea of pampering though, was probably different from what the hotel concierge had in mind. For the kind of pampering he had in mind, Tommy would have to look for services outside those listed on the hotel’s guest guide.
    The elevator arrived and Tommy stepped inside then punched the number nine button. The elevator swiftly bore its sole occupant to the ninth floor, whereupon the doors opened and Tommy stepped out onto thick burgundy carpet.
    He took in the elegant table upon which sat a lamp that looked to be made of delicate porcelain. A striped wing chair sat next to it.
    Tommy walked down the hallway slowly, listening to the complete absence of noise. This was what he wanted. Totally different from the Motel 6 kind of hotel he was used to and that pompous jerk Romano insisted his men stay at on the road. Where you stepped out into the hallway and were immediately greeted by the sound of screaming children and blaring televisions. While he, Romano, stayed in places like the Four Seasons. Piss on Romano, Tommy thought.
    Tommy was done with the Motel Sixes and the Super Eights forever. This would be the kind of place he stayed in from now on. A