Free Dead Mann Running (9781101596494) by Stefan Petrucha

miles up the road, in a tree branch a hundred yards due east. You can’t miss it. So, if you found us through the radio, I take it the cops are on their way?”
    Flat-face looked like the question pissed him off. “Nah. They won’t help you. They’re still in the Bones. Our boss sent us here, figured you might show. You’re all ours.”
    “Fine, fine. Just don’t tell me who he or she is, okay?”
    Chuckles twisted his round head and made a face like I was joking. “You don’t recognize us?”
    That surprised me. I didn’t. Part of me tried, by reflex, but I drew a familiar blank.
    “No.”
    “He’s lying,” Flat-face said.
    “Look, boys, I swear I have no idea who you are. Much as I might’ve enjoyed playing
Maltese Falcon
in another life, so to speak, right now I just want to hand the case over to whoever, so me and my friend can disappear.”
    “Maltese what?” Flat-face asked.
    “An old movie,” Chuckles explained.
    Flat-face seemed irritated that there was something Iknew that he didn’t. “So, you think you’re one of the smart ones?”
    “I’m trying,” I told him. “How do you want to do this? Both of you come with me to get the case, we leave my friend tied up until we get back?”
    Chuckles had other ideas. “I go with you and my associate stays with your friend. Anything happens to me, something happens to her.”
    I’d stepped close enough to get a good look at Flat-face’s clammy skin. Definitely an addict. “How about you stay and your friend goes with me?”
    That pissed off Flat-face all the more. “Think you can take me, chak?”
    I hadn’t even thought of that. “I couldn’t take either of you. I’d just rather have the cooler head stay with my friend. She’s had a rough day.”
    Chuckles was thinking about it, but Flat-face got a weird smile. “I can be sensitive! No deal.”
    I didn’t like it, but I didn’t have a choice.
    “So let’s go,” Chuckles said.
    “Just a second,” I said. I knelt by Misty and tried to smile confidently. I have no idea what it looked like, probably a scene from
Night of the Living Dead
. “I know I’ve been making a habit of leaving you lately, but I’ll be back soon and this’ll be over.”
    Her expression didn’t change. I rose and turned to Flat-face. “That was her boyfriend you blew up tonight. Let her rest, okay? Read a book or something.”
    He patted my cheek. “Don’t worry. We’ll be fine,” he said.
    I followed Chuckles to the squad car.
    “You don’t trust your friend with the case, do you? Why should I trust him with Misty?”
    “Because I have the gun.”
    I headed for the passenger side before he stopped me. “You drive.”
    “Suit yourself.”
    This time, the keys were in the ignition. The engine chugged and sputtered, misfiring like it had a bad plug or worse. I tried not to think about that. I tried not to think about lots of things, but Chuckles had already put a nasty thought into my head. I
knew
these guys from somewhere. Who were they? Who was ordering Tom Booth around? What was in that damn case and why had that piece of work brought it to
me
?
    The cop car managed the sand a little better than the Chevy, so I took us to within ten yards of the tree. The single headlight caught the edge of the briefcase, telling me it was still there.
    “You want me to get it for you?” I asked.
    Chuckles eyed me. “You’re really handing it over, just like that. You don’t want to leave your girlfriend with my associate any longer than you have to.”
    I nodded. “So, would you mind hurrying it up?”
    “Nope, I wouldn’t.”
    He got out. His back a black slate, he trotted over to the case, the cuffs of his shirt showing bits of white where the fabric folded. A few feet from the tree, he stopped and looked around. He stared into the dark ahead of him, then back at me in the car. I don’t think he’d seen anything. It looked like he’d just had one of those feelings.
    He gave the case a hard tug, then