The Amateurs Read Online Free PDF Page B

“Now, you know what that is?”
    The man focused on the page, his eyes growing wide.
    “I’ll take that as a yes. You make that for me, you got my word, I’ll delete the originals. They aren’t really my taste anyway. Though if you like, I’ll be happy to send you copies first, give you a little souvenir.”
    “I . . . you know what this is?”
    Bennett sighed, then leaned in and flicked the man’s broken nose with his middle finger. The guy yelped, dropped the page.
    “You think I’d be asking if I didn’t?”
    “I don’t know how to make it.”
    “You’re a smart guy. I’m sure you’ll figure it out. And you have one heck of a chemistry set at your disposal. A lab like yours, deals with pharmaceutical companies, you probably have most of what you need in stock, right?”
    Looking like it hurt, the man nodded.
    “Good. You’ve got three days.”
    “Three days, that’s not enough—”
    “There you go again.” Bennett tapped the Smith against the table. “Talking without thinking.”
    The man swallowed, said nothing.
    “Better. Now”—Bennett stood—“I’ve got your cell number. I’ll be in touch. I were you, I’d get to work.” He slid the gun back into his belt, started for the door. “By the way, I think the lovely you were swimming beside might have a crush on you. Just between us, eh, brother?” He winked, then stepped out, leaving the man naked and bleeding.
    An excellent performance. Hitting the right tone was key. He strolled down the hall, feeling good. He was almost to the stairs when the masseuse stopped him.
    “Everything OK?”
    “Right as rain,” he said. “But you know what, hon? I’ve got a feeling the doctor’s going to skip his massage.”

CHAPTER 3
    H IS EX-WIFE’S HOUSE was only a forty-minute drive if traffic was good, but it was so far out of his world Alex sometimes felt like he needed a space suit.
    It wasn’t the house itself, which was typical suburban: two stories of aluminum siding and painted shutters on a broad green corner bounded by neat sidewalks. Not one of the McMansions with four garages and a swimming pool and enough space for an extended Korean family. And it wasn’t the suburbs that bothered him. He’d grown up in them—in Michigan, not here, but the thing about suburbs was that they were the same everywhere—and so the strip malls and wide-laned roads and chain restaurants were familiar in a nostalgic sort of way.
    It was something else. The mothers pushing strollers and chatting. The kids racing on bicycles, legs pumping as they leaned on the handlebars. The quiet, tree-shaded streets. Everything seemed settled here. Proper. The predictable result of a series of calculated decisions.
    He thought of Jenn the night before, standing in his kitchen, pale and naked and unself-conscious. Holding her beer bottle by the neck and saying that all she’d wanted was to get swept up in an adventure. Beautiful, with her bright skin and small nipples and the faint marks of his fingers bruising her slender biceps. The kind of woman men could obsess over. And he cared about her, he really did. But as he’d looked at her, nothing in him had stirred the same way it did looking at the broad porch and well-kept lawn of his ex-wife’s house.
    Whatever. It was a shiny blue morning, he wasn’t working until six, and he had a date with his favorite ten-year-old. He unfolded himself from his car—the Taurus was solid and cheap, but a little small for six-two—and went up the walk whistling.
    The whistle died when Trish met him at the door. She wore jeans and a fitted T-shirt. Her hair was in a ponytail and her face was closed. “You’re late.”
    “Traffic.”
    She nodded, stepped inside. Turned and yelled over her shoulder. “Cassie!” She looked back at him. “You want some coffee?”
    He shook his head and thought he saw relief in her eyes. Alex put his hands in his pockets, ran his tongue around the inside of his mouth. Glanced at the foyer, the