Unwanted (Elemental Assassin) Read Online Free PDF Page B

arms to keep from falling on my ass. It took me a few seconds to regain my balance. I looked down to see that I’d stepped on a bright red toy fire truck half hidden in the thick grass. A couple of plastic firefighters lay next to it, along with the tiny figure of a grinning Dalmatian. Still more toys, everything from foam footballs to stuffed animals to building blocks, were scattered throughout the yard. Cruel reminders of a little boy who didn’t have a father to play with him anymore.
    I carefully stepped over the fire truck, walked up the rest of the lawn, and trudged up the front-porch steps. Through the wide picture windows, I could see people moving inside the house, eating, drinking, and talking somberly. More guilt and tension surged through me, tying my stomach into knots. This was the very last place I wanted to be, but Mosley had insisted, so I reached for the knob so I could go inside and pay my respects to Isabelle again—
    “You said you would have my money today,” a low voice growled.
    “And I will! I swear I will!” another voice, higher and whinier, chimed in. “Only I’ll have it tomorrow instead. Or in another day or two at the very latest.”
    I knew a shakedown when I heard one. The voices were coming from around the far side of the porch, so I moved away from the front door and headed in that direction, walking slowly so no one would hear my wing tips tapping against the wooden floorboards. I reached the end of the porch, eased up, and peered around the corner.
    Bart the Butcher was leaning against the white porch railing, still in his dark gray suit, his gold rings sparkling in the winter sun. Two giant goons, also in gray suits, flanked him, their arms crossed over their chests in their best tough-guy intimidation poses. But Bart didn’t need them to intimidate anyone. He was plenty menacing all on his own.
    And he was currently menacing Paul Vargas.
    Paul was standing in front of the other giant, shifting back and forth on his feet and making the floorboards creak under his weight. Bart gave him a hard, flat stare that had Paul slowly backing away from him.
    “ Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow ,” Bart said, making his voice a high, mocking imitation of Paul’s. “That’s all you ever tell me. I’m tired of tomorrows . I want the money you owe me, Paulie— today . Or there will be consequences. Very painful consequences.”
    Paul’s dark gaze dropped to the gold rings glinting on Bart’s fingers. He swallowed and took another step back. At least, he tried to. He was already pressed up against the side of the house, so there was nowhere for him to go.
    Paul realized that he wasn’t going to get any sympathy from the other giant, so his head snapped to the left, looking at someone I couldn’t see. “Tell him, Izzy. Tell him I’ll have his money tomorrow.”
    A soft sigh sounded, and Isabelle Vargas stepped into view, standing between her brother-in-law and his bookie. “I told you before, when you picked me up at the bank. Stuart Mosley said the money from Peter’s life-insurance policy will be here any day now. As soon as I have it, I’ll give it to you. I promise.”
    “Funny, but that’s the same thing Peter said,” Bart replied. “He told me a month ago that he was going to take out a second mortgage on this house to pay for his little brother’s gambling debts. But it never happened.”
    “Because he was murdered ,” Isabelle snapped back, her hands clenching into fists. “Not because he wasn’t going to go through with it.” Her body trembled with fresh grief, and tears shimmered in her eyes, but she blinked them back.
    Bart let out a low, ugly laugh. “The grieving widow. Aw, isn’t that sweet? At least you actually cared about your husband. Too bad Paulie doesn’t feel the same way about his dearly departed brother.”
    Isabelle frowned. “What do you mean?”
    Bart shrugged his massive shoulders. “I mean Paulie here has still been texting me this whole