Parker 04.5 - The Hunters Read Free Page B

little too much zeal.
    Both spread their legs shoulder-width apart. They placed their hands behind their heads. The guards then spent several minutes patting the guests down, looking for weapons, large and small. The blond man noticed one guard was taking his time searching the dark-haired woman.
    “Neither of us has any weapons,” the blond man said.
    Doughy laughed and said, “Maybe, maybe not. But we also want to be sure this bitch’s snatch isn’t going to cut my boy’s fingers off. You ready to get a cavity search, honey?”
    The woman did not move. The bodyguard searching her knelt down and put his hand on her inner thigh.
    “That’s enough, Fatty!” Culvert shouted. The three guards whipped around. “These folks are our guests. Now move out the way before I stick my boot up your crevice.”
    “Yes, sir,” Doughy said. He motioned for the other guards to move away.
    “Sit down there,” Culvert said. He was pointing to another section of the couch. In front of the section was a small coffee table. On the table was a pitcher of water, several glasses, a liter of Grey Goose vodka, several carafes of mixers, a bowl of pretzels and a dish with what looked like several grams of cocaine. “I’m sorry for my idiot brigade there. At least I know how to entertain my guests properly,” Culvert said, smiling through gold-plated teeth.
    The woman and the blond man sat down. The blond man took a pretzel and ate it. The woman poured herself a glass of water and sipped from it. Then they sat back.
    The blond man was reasonably sure Culvert had told the guards to make a move on the woman. That way he could stop them himself before they got physical. Come off like he was the good guy, protecting them. The blond man was not fooled.
    “That’s it?” Culvert said, holding up his gun hand, surprised. “Man, most people dive right for the nose candy, or at least wet their whistle with some of the Goose.”
    “We’re here for business, Leroy,” the woman said. “Playtime happens when our deal is done.”
    “I can respect that,” Culvert said. “See, I’m like you. I got me a drink here, but it’s a weak-ass one. Maybe one part gin, two parts tonic. Most nights I go half and half, but I want to keep my mind sharp.”
    “We have something in common then,” the woman said.
    Culvert sipped his drink. Then he held it out. One of the bodyguards came over and took the drink from him. It disappeared into the guard’s massive hand like a quarter.
    “You’re here for business,” Culvert said. “So let’s talk business.”
    “Absolutely,” the dark-haired woman said. She reached into her jacket and pulled out a small plastic bag. She looked at it briefly, then tossed it to Culvert. It landed on his lap, where he looked at it. He did not seem impressed.
    “What the hell is this? Gravel? Shit you pave your driveway with?”
    “That, Mr. Culvert, is our product,” the woman said. “And I think once you try it you’ll be absolutely certain that you will not want to line your driveway with it.”
    Culvert picked up the plastic bag. It was filled with small black rocks. Culvert jiggled the bag, holding his ear to it.
    “It does not play music, Mr. Culvert.”
    “What do you call this shit again?”
    “It’s called the Darkness, Mr. Culvert.”
    “Why you call it that?”
    The woman grinned. “Because when the world tries to beat you down, everyone could use the peace of Darkness.”
    Culvert’s eyes narrowed. He leaned forward,
    “Yeah,” he said, nodding vigorously. “I can dig that. I can see consumers going for that. See, when it comes to the consumer, you need a tag line. Something to remember. Everyone got shit going on in their lives, and you’re right—everyone needs the peace of Darkness to make it all go away.”
    “I think your consumers will agree that our product does just that.”
    Culvert said nothing. Then he stood up, placed his gun on the table. The small bag filled with black rocks fell