LITMIR.BIZ

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just hoped he hadn’t run out of lives.

      Chapter Two

      Simon was dead.

      Landry Jones stood in the large office of the Tampa warehouse fighting the urge to put a bullet hole into the brains of the two men who’d killed Simon. Stupid fools.

      But then he’d have to take out their boss, Freddy D., and that wasn’t part of the plan. At least not yet.

      “We almost got him to tell us who he was working with,” said the larger of the two thugs, who went by TNT or T for short, no doubt because of the man’s short fuse.

      The other man, known as Worm, was smaller, cagier and meaner if that were possible. “I told T to back off a little but Simon was giving him a lot of grief.”

      Knowing Simon, he would have purposely got T going, so the fool killed him before he gave up the names of the other undercover cops who’d infiltrated the organization.

      Landry swore under his breath. “That’s why I wanted to handle this. I would have gotten the names out of him.”

      Freddy D. studied him from beneath hooded gray eyes. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

      Landry shook his head angrily. “So where’s the disk Simon supposedly made?” he asked the two thugs. “Or did you kill him before he told you that, as well?”

      “Easy,” Freddy D. said, but turned his big bald head to take in T and Worm. “Tell me you got the disk.” The tone of his voice made it pretty clear that T and Worm might not be around long if they didn’t.

      Landry held his breath. T squirmed but Worm looked almost cocky. “He told us where to find it,” Worm said.

      Landry let out the breath he’d been holding. “Great. You don’t have the disk, you don’t even know if it exists or if Simon was a cop or not.” He felt the corpse-gray eyes of Freddy D. shift to him again.

      “My source said he was a cop and that there were two others working with him in my organization,” Freddy D. said.

      “Yeah? And what if your source just wanted Simon dead and you running scared of your own men?” Landry asked, knowing he was stepping over the line. “Simon was smart. He was good for business. Now he’s dead and there might not even be a damned disk.”

      “Cool down…” Zeke said from where he lounged against the wall. Zeke Hartung, known affectionately as Zeke the Freak, was tall and slim with rebel good looks. Landry had never asked how he got the nickname. He didn’t want to know.

      “We all liked Simon,” Zeke continued. “If he was a cop, then I’m a cop and I’m taking you all in.”

      The men in the room laughed nervously. Landry met Zeke’s gaze. Zeke smiled. The bastard loved to bluff.

      “If your source says there’s a disk, Freddy D., then there’s a disk,” Zeke continued. “So let’s find it. Find out what’s on it. Find out where Simon got his information—or if these two morons killed the wrong man.”

      “Who you calling a moron?” T demanded, going for Zeke.

      Freddy D. stopped it with a wave of his hand. “Zeke’s right. Once we have the disk, then we’ll know who we can trust. So where is this disk and why don’t I have it yet?” Freddy D. asked, a knife edge to his voice.

      Even Worm looked a little less sure of himself. “Simon said he hid it in a painting in one of those art studios down by the beach.”

      “You think he’s a cop, you think he has information on a disk that will bring down the entire organization or make it possible for some other organization to move in on us, and you trusted him to tell you the truth about where he hid it?” Landry demanded incredulously.

      Freddy D. shot Landry a look that dropped his blood temperature to just above freezing before turning that cold stare on T and Worm. “So why didn’t you just get the painting and bring it to me?”

      Worm swallowed, his Adam apple bobbing up and down. “It’s in this art studio. The thing is the shops are all open now. We can’t just waltz in and take the painting in broad daylight.”

      Freddy D. sat up, his weight making the chair groan. “Don’t take it, you fool. Buy it. How much money do you need?”

      T and Worm exchanged a look. “It’s not for sale.”

      Freddy D. sat back as if Worm had slapped him. “You aren’t serious.”

      “The painting is part of an art show tonight at some gallery called Seaside Seascapes,” Worm said. “I just thought I’d go to the show tonight and buy the painting.”

      Freddy D. groaned. “You? At an art show?”

      “Better than sending T,” Landry said.

      Freddy D. swiveled around in his chair to pin Landry with that corpse-gray gaze again. “You go, Jones. T and Worm will be waiting for you in the alley to make sure there are no problems. You buy the painting, make sure you get it tonight, you hand it over. They’ll be watching you the whole time. Have a problem with that?”

      “That’s assuming T and Worm aren’t undercover cops,” Landry said sarcastically.

      Even Freddy D. laughed at that.

      “I don’t know. They’re dumb enough to be cops,” Zeke said.

      Both men looked like they could kill Zeke, but were smart enough not to try. At least not right now in front of the boss.

      “I don’t want those two in the alley,” Landry said. He knew the best thing he could do right now was to go along with Freddy D.’s plan. But it was too late in Landry’s life to do the best thing. Far from it.

      “Think about it, these two hanging out in the alley behind a fancy art gallery?” Landry said. “First off, anyone who sees them is going to call the cops, thinking they’re staking out the place. Secondly, if your source is right and Simon was a cop working with the feds and had made a disk he planned to hand over, then the feds are looking for this disk, too.”

      Freddy D. narrowed his eyes at him, and for a moment Landry thought he might tell T and Worm to kill him. “While not eloquent or wise, you do make a good point. You’re saying that Simon might have gotten the feds word where he hid the disk.”

      Landry doubted it. Otherwise the feds would be busting down the doors right now, guns blazing. “I think it would be a mistake to underestimate Simon. I know if I was him and I spotted these two behind me, guilty or not, I’d do whatever I could to cover my ass.”

      “I’ll cover the alley,” Zeke said. “Or better yet, I’ll go to the art show and let Landry wait in the sidelines.”

      “Like you know squat about art,” Landry said, then pretended not to care. “Whatever.”

      Freddy D. raised a hand. “Landry goes in. Zeke, you take the alley. T and Worm won’t be far away just in case.”

      Just in case any of them thought about double-crossing him. “I want that disk,” the boss said.

      “If it exists,” Landry added, and Freddy D. gave him a warning look before turning again to T and Worm. “What do we know about this artist where Simon said he hid the disk?”

      The thugs exchanged confused looks.

      “The painting he had on him was signed W. St. Clair,” Worm said. “Simon said her name was Willow.”

      “Or something like that,” T said. “He wasn’t talking too clearly.”

      Freddy D. groaned. “What about the artist? Is it possible she’s his contact?”

      “You hear sirens?” Zeke asked sarcastically. “If the feds had the disk we’d all be facedown and handcuffed.”

      “Zeke’s right,”

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