The Devil's Collector Read Online Free PDF Page B

sir.”
    â€œWho is it?” Carlotta asked.
    â€œHe says his name is Clint Adams.”
    Damon rushed to the door, still naked, and swung it open. His penis was still semihard and immediately drew Lila’s eyes.
    â€œWho?”
    â€œClint Adams.”
    â€œThe Gunsmith?”
    The girl shrugged, still staring at Damon’s dick.
    Damon turned and looked at Carlotta.
    â€œNow what the hell’s he want?” he asked.
    â€œI don’t know.”
    â€œWell,” Damon said, turning to face her, “why don’t you go out there and find out?”
    Now that he turned around, Lila was staring at his naked ass.
    Carlotta leaned over so she could see past Damon to Lila.
    â€œTell him I’ll be right there.”
    â€œYes, ma’am.”
    She didn’t leave, though. She was still staring at Damon’s body. She was used to seeing fat, old men come through the whorehouse. Not men who looked good, like Cole Damon.
    â€œLila!”
    Startled, the girl turned and ran down the hall.
    â€¢Â â€¢Â â€¢
    â€œShe’ll be right out,” Lila told Clint. “Do you wanna wait in the parlor?”
    â€œNo, that’s okay,” Clint said. “I’ll wait right here.”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    Lila left him there and went into the parlor herself. Moments later a buxom blonde in her forties, carrying about thirty pounds too much weight, all of it in her breasts, came from a downstairs hall. She was out of breath, and her hair was tousled.
    â€œYou’re Adams?” she asked.
    â€œThat’s right,” he said. “Miss Carlotta?”
    â€œLila says your name is Clint Adams,” Carlotta said. “You’re the Gunsmith, right?”
    â€œThat’s right.”
    â€œAnd you’re lookin’ for Cole Damon?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œWhat for?”
    â€œTo try to keep him alive.”

THIRTEEN
    Carlotta walked Clint down the hall to her room.
    â€œJust let me talk to him first,” she said.
    â€œSure,” Clint said, “but tell him not to go out the window. There’s no need.”
    â€œI’ll tell him.”
    She opened the door and went inside. In a second, he heard raised voices. That went on for a few minutes, and then the door opened and Carlotta looked out.
    â€œYou can come in, Mr. Adams.”
    He entered, found himself immediately covered by Cole Damon’s gun. The man was wearing a pair of jeans, and nothing else.
    â€œThere’s no need for that,” he tried to assure him.
    â€œJust put yer hands up,” Damon said.
    Clint obeyed.
    â€œNow why’re you lookin’ for me? I never did nothin’ to you.”
    â€œThat’s true,” Clint said. “I’m just trying to help you.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œI don’t want to see you get killed.”
    â€œAnd who wants to kill me?”
    â€œFirst,” Clint said, “let me ask you if you knew a man named Carl Sonnet.”
    â€œCarl Sonnet?” Damon thought for a moment then replied, “I don’t think so.”
    â€œWell,” Clint said, “somebody thinks you did. In fact, he thinks you’re one of the men who killed Carl Sonnet.”
    â€œWhere’d this happen? When?”
    â€œA few months ago,” Clint said. “In Texas.”
    â€œI ain’t been to Texas in years.”
    â€œIs that true?”
    â€œIt is.”
    â€œCan you prove it?”
    â€œDo I have to?”
    â€œDid you ever know men named Dell Colbert or Dix Williams?”
    â€œNever.”
    Clint frowned.
    â€œWhy you askin’ me all these questions? What’s this you told Carlotta about me gettin’ killed?”
    â€œCarl Sonnet’s kid brother, Jack, is searching the country for the men who killed his brother. When he finds them, he kills them.”
    â€œMurder?”
    â€œFair and square,” Clint said. He outdraws them,