Wet Work: The Definitive Edition Read Online Free PDF Page B

sexual release. But the Pole had a mean misogynist streak, and on the Lebanese assignment, Corvino had seen this in action when he’d stopped Skolomowski from systematically beating to death a female Libyan operative during an interrogation.
    Skolomowski’s contact with the Nashville hooker and her subsequent murder were too much of a coincidence to ignore. While Del Valle had monitored the Tennessee killings, Corvino had made his own inquiries, learning the weapon that killed Dori Shannon, as the girl was identified, had been a military knife. That fact made coincidence seem even less likely—until the police arrested George Brandy, a repairman for Nashville Electric Service, apprehended when he tried to rape an undercover policewoman. Brandy, a loner with a history of nervous disorders, turned out to be a regular hunter in the Ozarks, owner of an entire arsenal of military and hunting knives and an extensive collection of hardcore S & M videos. When Brandy confessed to the murders and several others, taking the police to the burial sites, Corvino accepted he’d been wrong, questioned his own motives for suspecting the Pole. And yet…
    Regardless of whether Skolomowski had been responsible for either death, Corvino hoped Hell existed and he was burning in it. The Pole deserved nothing less than eternal damnation. Death by shotgun blast wasn’t enough.
    Mitra was dead.
    The assignment was a disaster.
    And he’d killed a man who shouldn’t have been alive.
    Corvino signaled left, steering the car in the direction of Quarry heights, and beyond that, Southcom.
     
     
    ALEXANDRIA.
    SUNDAY, MAY 28. 1 A.M.
     
    The steady rhythm of Nick’s peaceful breathing as he slept made Sandy feel secure yet alone. Although they were snuggled together in their usual fashion—he curved around her in the shape of a comma, her back covered protectively by his torso, his left arm supporting her neck—he was lost in dreams, a pleasure her anxieties denied her. The comet’s light drenched the bedroom with a pale glow which swept back the real shadows into the furthest corners but failed to dispel those darker shadows shrouding her thoughts.
    Cicadas rattled loudly in the yard, an annoying accompaniment echoing the worries tugging at her tired mind. The lovemaking had helped, albeit temporarily, yet it hadn’t been enough to free her from the apprehension surrounding her trip. Nick had offered to come with her, returning on the night train, and she’d appreciated the gesture, but she had to face her mother’s death, and she didn’t need him to hold her hand. Not when he was about to start active service on Monday. Death is inescapable , she thought. Having a policeman for a husband was tough enough to deal with, and D.C. was a mean beat to patrol, a high-risk area in which the threat of death loomed a constant reality. The thought didn’t fill her with much comfort. She didn’t want to lose him, too.
    Slipping from his embrace, she donned her silk robe and stepped silently from the room. Nick signed in his sleep as she pulled the door shut, pausing in case he awoke. He would worry and fuss in his own sweet way, but she didn’t need that right now. She needed to be alone with her thoughts, the way it had to be. The women in her family had always been strong. They knew men harbored fragile egos and needed careful handling, prompting moments when words, no matter how passionately felt, had to be held in check. Nick was understanding, sensitive in a manner she’d found severely lacking in most men, but there were occasions when he still treated her like a little girl.
    She felt that way now as she moved along the shadowed hallway. As a child she’d feared the dark, and even at age twenty-four, when she couldn’t sleep and would slip from the bed, she always had to put the hall light on. Tonight, however, there was more than enough illumination from outside to guide her. In fact, the comet made it worse, its green aura casting