The Serial Killer's Wife (39 page)

Nova pulls a pack of Camels from his pocket, offers me one. “You know I’m trying to quit,” I tell him, but take one anyway. Once he’s lit both mine and his, he looks down, looks back up, but before he can even open his mouth, I beat him to the punch line.
 

“He likes to play rough, doesn’t he?”
 

Slowly Nova nods. He doesn’t break his stare with mine.
 

Scooter pulls a fresh Bazooka Joe from his pocket, unwraps it, places the piece of bubblegum in his mouth. He’ll keep adding to the same piece he’s already chewing until he gets eight pieces, sometimes ten, before spitting the large ball of gum out and starting over with a fresh piece. The comic inside he’ll save and add to his collection. Now he leans back and glances up at me, and I see the same thing in his eyes that I see in Nova’s.
 

I let the moment pass a beat, then say, “Don’t worry about it.”
 

“Holly—” Scooter starts.
 

“I mean it. I’ll be cool.”
 

“Walter knows this isn’t going to be a clean hit,” Nova says. “But he doesn’t want it to get out of hand.”
 

Right. If I were a United States general in charge of a non-government sanctioned mission, I wouldn’t want things to get out of hand either.
 

“What’s his definition of out of hand?”
 

“You know it changes with every job. But I believe his exact words this time were something like if it’s going to be news, he’d rather it be local than national.”
 

“I can’t promise anything.”
 

“No, but you can promise you’ll at least try.”
 

“How does he want me to take out Roland anyway?”
 

“The way we figure it,” Scooter says, “th-th-the bodyguard might try to play rough with you too. He tries to slap you around, you fight back. Simple self-defense.”
 

“I don’t know,” I say, glancing back at the photographs spread out on the table, “he’s a pretty big guy.”
 

His cigarette finished, Nova drops it on the ground, grinds the cherry with the heel of his boot. Doesn’t say anything, just keeps staring back at me.
 

I realize Scooter is staring back at me too, leaning back in his chair, and then it hits me.
 

“Roland’s not here strictly on pleasure, he is? He’s here on business.”
 

“Some people are flying in from Argentina tomorrow afternoon,” Scooter says. “They’re going to make the deal then.”
 

“Do we know what for?”
 

Nova says, “Most likely what’s on that flash drive around his neck.”
 

“Okay,” I say, nodding again, “and I’m guessing this is the kind of the deal that can’t be made.”
 

“Of course not.” Nova reaches out to pat me on the shoulder but pauses, his eyes lighting up. “Oh shit, I almost forgot.”
 

“Forgot what?”
 

Grinning now, he glances at Scooter. “Want to give it to her or should I?”
 

Scooter is already jumping out of his chair, starting over toward the other end of the garage.
 

Nova says, “The guy that requested you, he requested something else.”
 

Scooter comes back, a cardboard box in his hands. He sets it down on the table, pushes it toward me. “Happy birthday.”
 

Frowning at Scooter, frowning at Nova, I reach out and open the box. Glance at what’s inside. Start to shake my head. “No fucking way.”
 

“Yes,” Nova says.
 

“No. I’m not wearing that.”
 

“You don’t have a choice.”
 

Scooter pulls out his Blackberry, points it at me. “Can I get a picture then?”
 

I just stare back at Scooter, than glance at Nova when he finally pats me on the shoulder.
 

“So,” he says, “you ready to party or what?”

3

Nova drives me in the Town Car to the Bellagio. He doesn’t speak once. He just drives and I sit in the back, watching the bright lights and the people still awake at two o’clock in the morning, finding it hard to imagine how just five hours ago I was at my mother’s place for family dinner. It’s her monthly excuse to get me and my sister and my sister’s husband and their two boys together, so she can learn what’s new and interesting in their lives and subtly hint at her disappointment in my life, what with me being almost thirty with no boyfriend or solid job or even secure future.
 

God how I hate those family dinners.
 

As Nova turns up the long drive to the casino, I close my eyes and take a breath. Then we make it to the front and he stops and one of the attendants hurries over to open the back door.
 

I step out into the cool dry air of the Las Vegas desert. I smile and nod at the attendant, and in broken English say, “Tank you.”
 

I’m wearing a thin cashmere overcoat that comes down to my knees, and as I walk toward the entrance, as I enter the hotel and make my way toward the elevators, I transform myself into tonight’s character: a Japanese working girl, limited high school education, speaks very little English. Just the type of girl who knows what guys like to hear and feel and is willing to give it to them for the right amount of cash.
 

At the elevators a man in a suit approaches me. I can tell at once he’s not hotel security. The suit is Armani, much too nice, and the look he gives me is intense.
 

“You here for the party?” he asks, and I nod, my lips pouted, like I only understand half of what he’s saying. “Okay then, follow me.”
 

He leads me to one of the farther elevators. He has a keycard which he swipes and the shiny, spotless doors open.
 

“Go on up, honey,” he says, “have a good time,” and as I walk into the elevator he gives me a quick pat on the ass.
 

My first impulse is to spin around and pop him one in the face, break his nose, send him to the ground with his eyes watering and blood dripping into his mouth. But I let this impulse slide, remembering that I’m a professional, and I only turn, smile at him, give him a half wave until the elevator doors close completely and then the smile fades and I turn my hand around and drop all my fingers except the middle.
 

As the elevator ascends I step back and look at myself in the shiny doors. I open the cashmere overcoat to reveal tonight’s requested outfit. Black three-inch high-heels, white knee-high stockings, a green and blue plaid miniskirt, a white button up top that’s opened at the chest to reveal my cleavage. Not at all what I was planning on wearing tonight, but if a Japanese schoolgirl is what this bastard wants, a Japanese schoolgirl is what he’s going to get.
 

In my ear Scooter says, “
You alone?
”
 

I’m wearing a wireless transmitter in my ear, a tiny thing smaller than a pebble.
 

“In the elevator, yeah. What’s up?”
 

“
Listen to th-th-this Bazooka Joe comic I just opened.
”
 

“Scooter, I don’t have time for this.”
 

“
But I th-think it’s a good omen. It’s my favorite one, comic number twenty. Joe’s grilling and he says to his buddy, ‘Hey, what happened to th-the hot dogs? Who took the hot dogs?’ And in the next panel Joe’s dog is leaning against a tree, a toothpick in his mouth, and says, ‘It just proves it’s a dog-eat-dog world. Get used to it, kid.
’ ” He pauses. “
What do you th-th-think?
”
 

Nova’s voice comes over the line, saying, “
I think you need to quit bothering Holly so she can concentrate.
”
 

“
Yeah, I know, but don’t you two see the life lesson in the comic? It’s brilliant. And the fortune says it all: We know what goes around, comes around—if you send it, you better duck.
” He laughs. “
Isn’t th-th-that just perfect?
”
 

The elevator begins to slow before I have a chance to respond. I look up at the numbers, see I’ve made it to the thirtieth floor. The elevator stops completely. I close the cashmere overcoat, take a deep breath. Then the doors open and I start to step forward but stop when I see the gun pointed at my face.

ALSO BY ROBERT SWARTWOOD

NOVELS

Man of Wax

Ben Anderson goes to bed Sunday night, lying next to his wife in the comfort and safety of their Pennsylvania family home, to wake up the next day in a rundown motel in California — alone.

He doesn't know how he got there, he doesn't know where his family is, and written in dried blood on the bathroom door are the words
LET THE GAME BEGIN
.

Soon Ben is contacted by Simon. Simon knows all there is to know about Ben, more than he cares to remember himself.

If Ben wants to save himself and his family, he will have to do everything Simon says.

As the game begins — with stakes much higher than either man can imagine — no one knows where it will lead or how it will end.

Only one thing is for certain: this time the game will change everything.

Man of Wax
is 80,000 words and the first book in a thriller trilogy where every day men and women must fight a power that threatens to destroy the world.

“
Man of Wax
grabs you by the throat in the first chapter and never lets go. A suspense-filled thrill ride with plenty of shocks along the way. Read it!”

—
F. Paul Wilson

The Inner Circle

Two years ago Ben Anderson woke up in a rundown motel, three thousand miles from home, his family missing, and the words
LET THE GAME BEGIN
written in blood on the back of the bathroom door.

Now, with his past life gone, Ben has become a soldier in Carver Ellison’s army against Caesar.

But when a mission goes wrong and one of their team members is murdered, it’s the last cryptic word spoken that will lead Ben and the team one step closer to the Inner Circle — a step that may bring them salvation ... or get them all killed.

With his trademark action and suspense, Robert Swartwood has delivered his most ambitious thriller yet.

The Inner Circle
is over 120,000 words long and the second book in a trilogy where every day men and women must fight a power that threatens to destroy the world. Recommended for fans of Harlan Coben, Lee Child, and Dean Koontz.

“
The Inner Circle
is a crafty, clever, white-knuckle thriller. If you haven’t yet read Swartwood, you’re missing out.”

—
Brian Keene

Walk the Sky (with David B. Silva)

Things are bad for Clay Miller and George Hitchens.
 

For starters, they’re on the run from a posse out for blood. Then, as they ride through the Utah desert, the two come across the crumpled body of a young boy on the brink of death. The boy can’t speak, but it’s clear he’s frightened of something nearby. When asked what’s got him so scared, the terrified boy writes three letters in the dirt ...

DED

By nightfall, Clay and George are tied up in jail. They can’t move. They can’t speak. They can do nothing but listen to the boy, outside, screaming for his life.

Yes, things are bad for Clay and George.

And they’re only going to get worse.

The Dishonored Dead

In a not-so-distant future, the world has devolved and most of the population has become the animated dead. Those few that are living are called zombies. They are feared and must be hunted down and destroyed.

Conrad is one of the animated dead. A devoted husband, a loving father, he is the best zombie Hunter in the world. But when he hesitates one night in killing a living adult, his job is put in jeopardy. Instead of being outright dismissed, he is transferred to a program so secretive even the Government would deny its existence—and where Conrad soon learns a startling truth about how his own son might be in danger of becoming a zombie.

As living extremists become more emboldened and blow up a Hunter Headquarters, as a power-hungry Hunter becomes more enraged and will stop at nothing to gain absolute power, Conrad begins to question not just his profession, but his own existence. And before he knows it he is on a journey of self-discovery, remembering a past he was forced to forget, and soon finding himself not only a hunted man, but a man who must now save both his son and the entire world.

The Dishonored Dead
is a 100,000-word zombie thriller that includes the 3,000-word short story “In the Land of the Blind,” which won 10th Annual Chiaroscuro Short Story Contest and was the inspiration for the novel, plus the 3,000-word short story “The Hunter” and a bonus interview with the author.

“
The Dishonored Dead
is simply brilliant, and its telling a superb achievement. Robert Swartwood has given us a wonderful twist, not only on the zombie novel, but on the dystopian tale as well. It’s like
Brave New World
meets
Logan’s Run
, but with a bite all its own. Strongly recommended!”

—
Joe McKinney

“
The Dishonored Dead
is one of the most original and gripping zombie novels I have ever read, offering a glimpse into the life of a zombie in a world turned backwards, where zombies live and humans are feared. Highly recommended!”