Chapter 112
T WO HOURS LATER, the auction was complete, and Michael Sullivan was driving on the Massachusetts Turnpike in his Lexus. The car could move reasonably well, and the ride was smooth as a baby’s ass, or maybe he was just feeling good.
There were a few loose details to work out, but the job was done. Let’s Make a Deal had netted him three hundred and fifty thousand, all of it wired into an account at the Union Bank of Switzerland. Truth be told, he hadn’t felt this financially secure in a while, though he’d probably burned his Boston contact for the job. Maybe he’d have to move the family again too. Or maybe it was time for him to break free and set off on his own, something he’d been thinking about a lot.
It was probably worth it ? three hundred fifty grand for a day’s work. Jerry Steiner had been the winning bidder, but then he tapped the dumb, obnoxious bastard anyway. Melinda was a different story. He liked her, didn’t want to hurt her. But what choice did he have? Leave her around to talk? So he made it painless ? one to the back of Mel’s head. Then a couple of pictures to memorialize her pretty face for his collection.
Anyway, he was singing a Stones ballad that he’d always liked, “Wild Horses,” when he came around the bend in the road. There was his house on the hill, right where he’d left it.
And ? what the hell was this?
Mistake?
But whose mistake?
He shut off his headlights around the next little crook in the road. Then he eased into a cul-de-sac, where he had a better view of his house and the grounds.
Man, he couldn’t catch a break lately. Couldn’t outrun his past no matter how far away he went.
He’d spotted them right away, in a dark-blue car, maybe a Dodge, with the grille pointed toward the house like a gun. Two men inside that he could see. Waiting for him, no doubt about that.
Mistake.
Theirs!
But who the hell were these two guys he had to kill now?