122 Rules Read Free Page B

narrow space on the opposite side of the shelving unit. A bald-headed man with his back to her handed a thick white envelope to the one who must be the Joe Pesci sound-alike.
    “Joe” opened it, thumbing through a thick stack of hundred dollar bills, closed it back up, and tucked it in his jacket pocket.
    Oh. My. God. This is for real. Her heart beat so hard in her ears she could no longer understand the conversation. She could only see the back of Baldy’s head, though when he turned, she thought she glimpsed a scar running from his left ear down to his jaw. She had an unobstructed view of the other man, though. He had a short, solid body and dark hair cut in a no-nonsense style. Nothing to note in the looks department until she saw his eyes: black, and as cold and soulless as a shark’s. They sent a chill up her spine.
    But his voice… It made the hair on her neck stand up. He sounded like Mr. Pesci but spoke with an icy authority. Do not cross me , the tone said. Ever . This personality didn’t jive with the jovial little man she had come to know from movie comedies. This man was a heartless, merciless machine, about as far from bumbling as possible. How she could possibly know that, she wasn’t sure. But, as always, Monica trusted her gut.
    Joe continued, “Let Frankie know it’s done. We can move the product to the distributors in a couple of weeks once we’re sure Lenny isn’t missed.”
    “The guy was such an incompetent, meddling asshole. I don’t think anyone’ll go looking for him. And if someone did find out it was us, no one would care,” Baldy said.
    “Don’t be an idiot. How many times do I have to tell you about being careful? I do not want this coming back on us. People come to our organization because they trust our brand and our ethics. You know that. Incompetent or not, if word got out that we removed the head of the biggest supplier in New York, it could seriously hurt our reputation.”
    Baldy chuckled. “Removed the head. Literally. Funny, boss.”
    Those black, soulless eyes fixed on the underling. Ice chilled her soul as Monica stared into their frozen depths. “It’s time to go. The spooks have been watching, and I don’t want anyone to see us together. Wait five minutes then get out of here before someone spots you.”
    Baldy nodded, and Joe walked away. He turned around, and Monica jerked back from the gap. Had the mobster seen her?
    When he didn’t say anything, her heart slowed a little, though its rhythm remained far above its normal cadence. The killer waited a few minutes, set something on the shelf, then turned and strolled away as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
    Monica let out her breath and tried to calm her still-galloping heart. Had she really just seen what she thought she had? She hit stop on her phone and played back part of what she’d recorded. “I don’t think anyone will go looking for him...” She clicked stop.
    Oh, shit. She had become a witness.
    Now the big question: What did she plan to do about it?
    Nothing! You do not want to be involved in this! Do not go to the police. What did you see, really? Nothing. Nothing at all. None of it made any sense or meant anything.
    Besides, would the police even believe her? Every day, millions of nut jobs in this city screamed about conspiracy theories and government cover-ups. No one would listen. Just another crazy looking for attention. But the recording... Did that matter? Would it give her credibility? With each question, her doubts compounded.
    She didn’t know the answers, but she did know she wanted out of the library as fast as possible. With trembling hands, she shoved her books and notes into her bag helter-skelter, tucked the phone in her pants pocket, and stood. Before leaving, she reached through the shelf and picked up the book Baldy had left behind. The Untouchables . How ironic.
    Monica’s eyes scanned the reading room as she moved out of the rows of books, looking for Baldy and Joe, but