Body Count Read Free

about me than the cleaning products.
    I smile, let my eyes linger on his, then cast my gaze quickly down his body, averting my eyes at his groin as though suddenly aware of, and embarrassed by, my own actions. I follow it with a small yet forceful push of air through my nose that verges on a giggle. While he’s absorbing this development, I cast my eyes around the room once more, looking for any sign of a weapon.
    â€œSee.” I show him the clean piece of laminated board. “Spotless.”
    He smiles.
    It’s time.
    I take the appropriate bottle out of my sales bag.
    â€œOur next product is the window cleaner.”
    I turn around and walk toward the window, exaggerating the swing of my hips. I spray the window and before I start the wiping action I look around at Boxley with my head down slightly, eyes up, and I smile.
    â€œYou’re going to love this one.” My voice has a more serious, tougher tone and I’m out of character for a split second, knowing that soon he’ll be mine. I wipe the product away, giving our guys the signal. The bust is a go.
    â€œMad Dog, this is seven, we have the signal. Repeat, we are a go,” a voice says in my earpiece.
    â€œMove in, people,” Flynn says.
    I turn around and notice a strange look on Boxley’s face. He’s looking at my feet. No, my ankle. Oh God, my ankle holster. Have my pants edged their way upward as my arm completed the wiping motion, high above my head? How could I be so stupid? My cockiness might cost me dearly.
    â€œAnything wrong?” I keep my voice casual, steady.
    Boxley looks at me, silent. I know that look. He’s about to take action.
    He lunges, arms outstretched. I dart to the side, just in time to escape his lethal hands, then immediately take a step forward with my left leg and send a swift, hard right kick his way. I aim for his back, targeting his kidneys, and the top of my foot meets its mark. He stumbles forward from the force of my kick and winds up on his knees in front of the window. He turns around to make another run at me. I grab my gun from the ankle holster and draw it, taking the safety off.
    â€œFBI!” It’s the first time I’ve announced myself as FBI and I like it. The adrenaline is well and truly pumping now.
    Boxley pauses.
    â€œI will fire, Robert, so don’t even think about it.” I look at him and all I can think about are his victims. I lower my gun from his heart to his crotch. It has the desired effect.
    â€œThere are twenty police officers and agents on their way up here right now and we’ve got sharpshooters on the surrounding buildings.” He’s standing right in their line of fire. “Try anything and you’re dead.”
    â€œYou bitch.”
    â€œFlynn, I have the suspect.”
    â€œOkay, Goldilocks, we’re a minute away.”
    I walk backward and unlock the front door, keeping my eyes and gun trained on Boxley. “Roger that, Flynn, door is open.”
    â€œYou bitches are all the same,” Boxley says.

CHAPTER 02
    I sip my peppermint tea, trying to elicit a soothing feeling from it. Instead, I wish I’d gone for coffee number five. I put the mug back down on my desk, lining it up with a day-old coffee ring. I could do with a dash of Clean-a-way myself.
    My office is quite small, like most of the offices in the unit, about ten feet by ten feet. But hey, it beats open plan. The decor is stark—white walls, gray furniture and fairly new blue-gray carpet. I’ve just finished an office tidy-up and my large wall-mounted whiteboard is sparkling clean. My four-drawer filing cabinet has only three files on top of it and my desk has more than a few patches of laminate visible underneath the papers. I’ve even placed the two visitor chairs neatly in front of my desk. To finish off, I water my corner plant, the office’s only homely feel, and contemplate wiping my desk.
    Even from my office I can see that