“You haven’t answered my question. And unless you answer it, you can just go call the sheriff, because you ain’t getting one red cent from me.”
Romanello hesitated, but then his greed won out over his better judgment. “I went there to kill you,” he said simply.
She slowly let go of his wrist after giving it one more intense ratchet. He took a minute to rub the circulation back in.
“Why?” LuAnn demanded fiercely.
“I don’t ask questions. I just do what I’m paid to do.”
“Who told you to kill me?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know.” She reached for his wrist again, but this time he was ready for her and jerked it out of danger. “I’m telling you I don’t know. My clients don’t just drop by and have coffee and chat about who they want me to take out. I got a call, I got half the money up front. Half when the job was done. All through the mail.”
“I’m still alive.”
“That’s right. But only because I got called off.”
“By who?”
“By whoever hired me.”
“When did you get the call?”
“I was in your trailer. I saw you get out of the car and take off. I went to my car and got the call then. Around ten-fifteen.”
LuAnn sat back as the truth dawned on her: Jackson. So that’s how he took care of those who refused to go along.
When she didn’t say anything, Romanello leaned forward. “So now that I’ve answered all your questions, why don’t we discuss the arrangements for our little deal?”
LuAnn stared at him for a full minute before speaking. “If I find out you’re lying to me, you won’t like it one bit.”
“You know, somebody who kills for a living usually strikes a little more fear into people than what you’re showing,” he said, his dark eyes flickering at her. He partially unzipped his jacket again so that the butt of the 9- mm was once more visible. “Don’t push it!” His tone was menacing.
LuAnn glanced at the pistol with contempt before settling her eyes back on his. “I growed up surrounded by crazy people, Mr. Rainbow. Rednecks getting drunk and pointing twelve-gauge shotguns in people’s faces and then pulling the trigger just for fun, or cutting somebody up so bad their momma wouldn’t have knowed them and then betting on how long they’d take to bleed to death. Then there was the black boy who ended up in a lake with his throat slashed and his private parts gone, ’cause somebody thought he was too uppity hanging around a white girl. I’m pretty sure my daddy had something to do with that, not that the police down there gave a damn. So your little gun and your big man bullshit don’t mean crap to me. Let’s just get this over with and then you can get the hell out of my life.”
The danger in the depths of Romanello’s eyes rapidly dissipated. “All right,” he said quietly, zipping his jacket back up.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
A half hour later Romanello and LuAnn exited the deli. LuAnn climbed into a cab and headed back to her hotel where, to follow through on her cover story to Charlie, she would spend the next several hours at the beauty salon. Romanello walked down the street in the opposite direction, silently whistling to himself. Today had been a very good day. The arrangements he had made with LuAnn weren’t a hundred percent foolproof, but his gut told him she would honor the deal she had made. If the first installment of the money wasn’t in his account by close of business two days from now, then he would be on the phone to the police in Rikersville. She would pay, Romanello was sure of that. Why bring all that grief on yourself?
Since he was in a festive mood, he decided to stop and buy a bottle of Chianti on the way to his apartment. His thoughts were already focused on the mansion he would buy in some faraway land to replace it. He had earned good money over the years exterminating human beings, but he had to be careful in how he spent it or where he kept it. The last thing he wanted was the IRS knocking on his door asking to see his W-2s. Now that problem was behind him. Instant, massive wealth allowed one to soar beyond the reach of the Revenue boys, and everyone else. Yes, it had been a great day, Romanello concluded.