The Coldest Mile Read Online Free PDF Page B

why.
    He continued holding the door open, his shadow thrown across her knees, until she slowly turned her chin and shifted in her seat, those shades finally focused on him. He could feel her innate strength and knew right then that the Deuce was right, she was sharp and primed to take over.
    He pretended to tip the hat that wasn't there and said, “Hello, Miss Langan.” Then closed her in.
    Moe walked out of the house and started givingorders to one of the capos but stopped talking when he noticed Chase wasn't wearing the hat and gloves.
    These people, Jesus Christ.
    Jackie Langan stood back and waited for Chase to open the door of the limo for him. Chase walked past him, slid behind the wheel, and tapped the door lock. The security gates were already open. He left Jackie, Moe Irvine, and the rest of the stumble-fuck crew standing there while he kidnapped the woman.

I n the back of his head, Lila whispered, Sweetness, why're you doing this?
    It was a good question.
    Maybe the answer was blood, maybe it wasn't, you just couldn't tell anymore. Chase hadn't intended to play things out this way, but he went with his instincts. Jackie didn't matter. Jackie would only have chump change around, even in the safe. Sherry Langan was the real head of the family and would probably be whacking her stupid- ass brother any day now. Chase had to get on her radar somehow, so why not be bold about it? His grandfather always told him never to follow someone else's rules.
    Jonah in his skull said, You're doing this because you want to die.
    Chase gunned the limo toward the Holland Tunnel. He'd overhauled the engine and was able to squeeze some real speed out of it, the front end perfectly aligned, tires balanced, the extra length of the vehicle cutting a nice channel as he cruised.
    The satellite radio had been set to sophisticated talk shows and classical music. He found an oldies station and kept the volume low, the sweet harmonies of Motown reaching out and filling his belly with a nice thrum.
    The partition window was down. Sherry Langan said, “So, you're a showoff.”
    “Not really,” Chase told her. “I'm just a driver, not a chauffeur.”
    “What's the difference?”
    “Among other things, I don't wear the hat and gloves.”
    “Then I daresay this wasn't the job for you. Perhaps we should have weeded you out during the interview.”
    The backs of her hands were covered with thin wisps of veins. She made herself a drink at the bar and sat back, sipping it, sighing a little as she swallowed.
    She crossed her legs. They were her best feature and she knew it. He suspected that she was always hoping for a reaction—had probably heard the old wiseguys whispering about her stems since she was a kid.
    “Are you the one who's been raiding my Glenlivet?”
    “No.”
    “Your friends then.”
    “I don't have any friends,” he said, and the truth of it rang inside him, echoing through the emptiness.
    She watched him taking the smooth turns, weaving through traffic, in no real hurry but still making good time. “Are you trying to play out a flash move here?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Earn your bones by creating a stir? Garner respect and rise through the ranks by pissing off your employers?”
    “People really give that a whirl?”
    “They have in the past, yes.”
    “Were any of them still breathing the next day?”
    A demure laugh rippled up her throat. “I suspect not many, at least not in the old days. So tell me, what's your game?”
    “I don't have one,” Chase said. “I'm just taking you to the bank on Madison and then to Pietro's for lunch.”
    Nails clinking the rim of the glass elicited a sharp tone. “But you abandoned my brother.”
    Chase tried to force his features into a shocked expression, knowing it probably wasn't going to work. But how well could she see him anyhow? Way back there through those big black shades?
    “What?”
    “Yes, he was supposed to join us.”
    “Nobody told me he was