By Dean Koontz
Released less than pseudonym Brian Coffey.
Four males waited at the slim mountain highway for the Cadillac wearing 341,890, the biweekly taking of a Mafia cellphone. 4 males who had by no means failed in a heist sooner than, on their fourteenth operation in 3 years: Shirillo, looking at within the lengthy grass; Pete Harris with a submachine gun; Bachman within the getaway motor vehicle; and Mike Tucker, paintings broker thief; the perfectionist. because the huge Cadillac slewed around the bend, none of them discovered that this time Tucker had made a deadly miscalcuation that may plunge all of them right into a blood conflict opposed to the Mafia.
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Extra resources for Blood Risk (Tucker Series, Book 1)
You been keeping up with the news," Shirillo said. "But I prefer to think of them as nervous collapses; it's not a physical thing but a psychological one. Everyone clucks about it for a few days; all the upstanding white citizens rush out and buy a lot of guns they don't know how to use; in a month it's forgotten, and nothing's changed. Nothing at all. If you're not black or Spanish, you've got to be shit-poor to live in the Hill section. And that's why we were there. My father tried to keep ends together with a shoe-repair store, and did, too, until he kicked off at fifty-six from too much damn work.
His own reaction to failure was different from Shirillo's; his resourcefulness was increased, his determination magnified. He said, "I've noticed branch roads leading from this main track. " Shirillo nodded quickly. "I saw them too. " "I didn't pretend to mean we'd get all that far on one of them," Tucker said patiently. He didn't like this dawning note of pessimism in the kid, but he didn't comment on it. The best way to bring Shirillo around was to be calm, lead him by example. " "I don't like it," Shirillo said.
32-caliber pistol in a chamois shoulder holster, as did Tucker. Unlike Tucker, however, he kept touching it, like a savage with his talisman. With damp fingertips he traced the Crosshatch pattern on the solid butt, lifting the whole weapon slightly out of the holster, testing the way it fit, looking for potential snags- though he had worn this same piece for years and knew that it wouldn't snag, ever. Though Bachman had only the one gun, Tucker held an additional shotgun with only seven inches of barrel; both chambers were loaded, and six spare cartridges were distributed in his jacket pockets.
Blood Risk (Tucker Series, Book 1) by Dean Koontz