Little Mountain Read Online Free PDF

heat.
             Viseth swigged his beer. Tonight was the payoff whether the man liked it or not. That son of a bitch put off payment till things settled down. The man was right, though. If he disappeared too soon, they’d suspect. Cops were so damn suspicious. Meanwhile, he should just take a little time and get rid of the gun. Get laid one more time before his girlfriend shut him off. She was getting so big, so damn big. No way she could come with him to Long Beach in that condition. State would take care of the baby, then he’d get himself somebody else for fun. When he got settled, he’d call and find out if she had a boy. If so, maybe he’d send for her.
             And maybe he wouldn’t.
             His mind drifted to the girl in the car last night. Too bad he didn’t know where she lived. Probably wasn’t here on 11th Street. Now he could show her some real fun. He could stretch her out on the hood of his old Chevy while her boyfriend looked on --
             A Cambodian woman wearing sunglasses walked toward him with brisk steps, her face looking straight up the hill. Though he didn’t live in the neighborhood, he knew she was a single mother who lived in the same house Chea lived in, and that the girl who scampered along the edge of the park was hers. Nice body mom’s got, long legs, bet that ass could swing. “Hey lady,” he called out. “Let’s go someplace cool and get to know each other.”
             She didn’t turn her head or slow her pace, but he could feel her eyes looking at him. The faintest hint of a scowl shaped her lips. Her heels clicked on the cement sidewalk. She wanted him, he could tell. She walked by, close enough that he could smell her perfume. “It’s your lucky day,” he said. “I’ve got twelve inches all for you.”
             The woman looked across the street and waved at her daughter. “P h eary, be careful crossing the street.”
             Up the street where she walked was Rocky, the Cambodian kid who put out one of the street lights for him. Rocky was a skinny little shit in a red bathing suit, shower clogs, and a golden brown back. Who the hell cared what his real name was ? Rocky threw small rocks at a pair of sneakers that dangled over a telephone wire, then popped a bulb on a telephone pole. Damn kid was good, he had to admit. “Hey Rocky,” he called. “I told you to stop that shit. Once was enough.” Sure as shit, if the boy got in trouble for darkening the street, the kid would blame him. Cops might connect him with last night. He was unclear on that. Was there any way they could tie him to the murder? If there wasn’t any light, then no one saw him leave, unless -- . He should have thought more about that ahead of time.
             A police car turned the corner and headed up the street toward Chea’s place. As the cruiser passed by, the driver looked at him for a moment, then double parked. Up the street was that Cambodian cop, the asshole who kept trying to bust him. He’d slipped away from the cop after the robbery a couple of weeks ago, but maybe he was pushing his luck to hang out here. Freakin ’ guy had muscles that could lift a pick-up truck, and eyes that could see through a barrel full of shit. Now he was in street clothes. Did he think he was fooling anybody? He was working his way down here. Viseth was fucked. If he ran, he was dead. Itchy beads of sweat clung to his forehead.
             The other cop stepped out of his car and said something to Rocky, then ambled across the street toward Viseth. Had Rocky called the cops? He should’ve paid the kid an extra five to shut his mouth. Or dunked him head first in the canal, see how long he could hold his breath. The cop’s revolver was snapped into a holster on that thick black belt they all wore. He had dark skin and a round baby face . Gonzalez, his name tag said. What did they call them again, was it spic s? This guy had to be