Body Movers 4 - 4 Bodies and a Funeral Read Free Page B

skin had drawn
    tight.
    Thinking back to the body-snatching scheme, Wesley
    shook his head. Why did he think he could do it? At the
    last minute he’d balked and when it was over, he’d come
    clean with his boss, Cooper, and the police. The D.A., an
    asshole named Kelvin Lucas who had indicted his dad, had
    wanted to nail Wesley to the wall. But his attorney, Liz,
    had managed to persuade the D.A. that Hol is Carver was a
    bigger fish. Since Wesley stil owed The Carver a shitload
    of money, it was in his best interests if The Carver went to
    jail for a long time.
    On the other hand, The Carver could probably pul strings
    no matter where he was. If he found out that Wesley had
    turned on him, he might have the rest of his name and his
    address cut into Wesley’s skinny body.
    Once inside the lobby, Wesley slowed his pace so as not to
    attract attention from the security guards, and joined the
    line of bored people going through a metal detector. He
    jammed his hands in his pockets, trying to calm his nerves,
    but his brain was firing like a machine gun. Sweat trailed
    down his back, and behind his glasses his left eye ticked
    nervously. It was the OxyContin—or rather, the lack of it—
    kicking in.
    He was really making an effort this time to stay away from
    the stuff. The Percocet he’d pinched from Carlotta’s purse
    and the two refil s he’d gotten had bridged the worst of his
    withdrawal symptoms, but he had only one pil left. He
    fingered the capsule in the corner of his pants pocket,
    yearning to swallow it, but drawing some comfort from its
    mere presence.
    He’d hardly left the house the last couple of weeks except
    to go to ASS, Atlanta Security Systems, where he was
    poking around in his dad’s trial files under the guise of
    doing community service for hacking into the courthouse
    computer. So he’d definitely noticed that the house was
    being watched. The first appearance of the black SUV at
    the curb in front of the town house where he and Carlotta
    lived had nearly made him piss his pants. He’d gathered up
    anything that could be used as a weapon: a hammer, a few
    butcher knives, a cast-iron skil et, even a can of hair-spray
    from Carlotta’s bathroom. But when no one had emerged
    from the SUV with guns drawn to storm the place—the
    vehicle had simply left and returned at different hours of
    the day—he’d wondered if someone was looking out for
    him. Maybe Jack Terry had sent a fel ow cop to patrol the
    house, at least until Wesley could strike his deal.
    He pivoted as the line moved forward, looking for signs of
    trouble. When he was two people back from reaching the
    detector, he spotted Mouse, The Carver’s head henchman,
    entering the front door of the building.
    Wesley almost swallowed his tongue and pecked on the
    shoulder of the stout woman in front of him. “I’m late for a
    meeting. Would you mind if I go ahead of you?”
    The woman frowned. “We’re all in a hurry. You’re gonna
    have to wait your turn like everybody else.”
    He hunched his shoulders and tried to look inconspicuous,
    but Mouse noticed him and came charging toward him.
    The woman was chatting with the security officer, taking
    her sweet, fat time.
    “Hey, could you put some wheels on it?” Wesley said,
    moving his hand in a rol ing motion. His heart was
    gal oping like a racehorse’s.
    She frowned, but lumbered through the metal detector.
    Mouse lunged for him and Wesley practically humped the
    woman trying to get through the narrow opening behind
    her. He felt a tug on his shoulders as Mouse grabbed the
    neck of his jacket to yank him back. Wesley held his arms
    behind him and walked out of the garment.
    He looked back to see Mouse glaring at him, holding the
    jacket. Wesley gave him a little salute. No way was Mouse
    walking through the metal detector—the man probably
    had weapons stowed in his cheeks.
    “You have to come out sometime,” Mouse cal ed.
    Wesley swallowed and continued walking across the