Page 107 of Taste of Blood
“Need any help?”
“No, I got this.”
The motel in question is a shithole. I spot the bookie’s men sitting in a beat up van at the end of the block. Nothing too obvious about that, though I’m guessing Cosgrove is probably already aware of them. And since they’re still here, he’s no doubt in the apartment.
Which makes things easier for me. When I park farther down the block, I notice a kid hanging out on the corner. I approach him and pull out a twenty, dangling it in front of him.
“See that car?” I ask, pointing. He follows my finger and nods. “Anyone comes near it, you tell me about it. Okay?”
“You got it.”
I hand him the twenty. “There’s another one for you when I get back.”
I don’t trust leaving my car on this street, but I can’t exactly take it inside with me.
The lobby is a depressing shade of roach motel gray. I walk up to the cage where the greasy-haired clerk is fucking off watching TV.
“Hey,” I call to him. When he ignores me, I smash the bell on the counter until he looks my way.
“Coming, Jesus, what the fuck.”
“I need a room number for Alvin Smith,” I tell him.
“You a cop?”
“No. Concerned citizen.”
“Well, we don’t give out that–”
I don’t have time for this. I reach through the opening and grab him by the collar, yanking his head close to the cage. “I wasn’t asking.”
The clerk sputters and tries to wrestle free. “Okay, okay. He’s in room twenty-three.”
I shove him away from me and head for the stairs, stepping around the trash littering the steps and hallway. When I get to the room, I take a minute to pause and press my ear to the door, listening. It’s quiet inside. Maybe he’s sleeping.
Time to wake things up. I stand back and shove my booted foot hard against the door, splitting the wood and causing general chaos within.
Cosgrove staggers up from the bed with a gun in his hand, though he’s wild-eyed and shaky. Probably hasn’t slept since he started holing up in here.
I don’t give him a chance to get his bearings. I advance on him and slap the gun out of his hand then grab him around the neck and pull him to his feet.
“What the fuck?” he croaks. “Who are you?”
“I’ll give you a hint. Dante sent me.”
“Dante?” He visibly relaxes, like he’s in the clear. “Look, I’m just taking a few days off. I haven’t been feeling well.”
Stupid human excuse. I squeeze his throat. “So you weren’t ducking out to say, hook up with another crew?”
“Another crew? No, I…that is, I would never. I’m loyal.”
“Loyal, huh?” I jerk him closer and reach into my pocket with my other hand to pull out a set of charmed zip tie cuffs. “Let’s talk about loyalty, shall we?” I spin him around and cuff him in one practiced move.
“What’s happening here? Why am I being cuffed?”
“Don’t insult me, Cosgrove. I’d like nothing more than to beat your worthless ass to a pulp right now, but Dante wants you in one piece.”
He takes that as an invitation to struggle, so I pull him up and flash him my most unsettling smile. “The ‘in one piece’ part was just a suggestion, so don’t tempt me.” I shove him toward the door. “Look at the bright side. At least you won’t die at your bookie’s hand tonight.”
