Only You by Jerry Cole (the top 100 crime novels of all time TXT) 📕

cancel the Single’s Through Europe Package, a decision that cost his company millions, he preferred to see the upside to it... that being the fact he got to go to Europe, and all the good that came from that.

But despite these small yet significant changes, what Nick had him doing right now, the place that he had dragged him to almost against his will, was still a bridge too far.

The two men were sitting in Nick’s car, parked just out front of some community housing in a local ‘rough spot’, Redfern. Redfern was known for housing some of the lower-end members of society, the kind you wouldn’t want to walk past in the middle of the night with no witnesses about. Most of these lowlifes lived in one of the three community housing buildings, built decades ago; these were tall, concrete towers that the locals called ‘Suicide Towers’ for reasons that were obvious to anyone unlucky enough to see them.

  As of the moment, there were a dozen or so people gathered outside the building’s entrance; most were loitering teens, smoking and drinking their lives away, while a few were homeless people too lazy, weak or high to roll themselves somewhere more private. It was the kind of place that Sherman ordinarily wouldn’t be caught at in a million years... but this was no ordinary situation.

“Where is he?” Sherman checked his phone again, 7:34PM. “I thought you said 7:30?”

“I did. But what about this guy makes you think he’s the sort to be punctual?” Nick wasn’t paying Sherman any attention. Rather, he had a string of tooth-floss out and had proceeded to floss between his teeth – using the rear-view mirror – as he spoke. Being the larger man that he was, he was forced to lean up and forward to get a good view, which had him pushing Sherman back into the corner of his seat.

“Do you mind?” Sherman curled his lip at the sight.

“Wha’?” Nick managed. A second later and Nick was winding his window down and discarding the floss on the street. “Have you ever tried to hit on a girl with bad breath? It almost never works – oh, what do you think of this suit, by the way? Too much?”

The suit was a shiny navy-blue two-piece, paired with a light-pink shirt, a matching pocket square and tie. It was the kind of suit that Sherman would have worn to a special event or a function, or maybe a wedding. Nick however was headed out tonight and wanted to look his best. He’d tried to drag Sherman out too, as he always did, but Sherman denied him, as he always did.

“It’s fine,” Sherman assured him.

“Fine?” Nick raised an eyebrow. “I don’t want, fine. I want sexy, or suave, or refined. Any of those, really – and my hair? What do you think? I was going to gel it down, but there’s too much. So, I figured I’d let it run loose and go for a sort of, man who can’t be tamed look? Huh?” Nick nodded his head as if trying to get Sherman to go along.

“Ahhhh... if that’s what you’re going for...?”

Sherman didn’t know what to say. Lucky that he was saved from having to properly answer a moment later, as Nick looked over Sherman’s shoulder and saw the man they were waiting for. “Oh! Here we go.”

Mad Dog Dan looked almost exactly like Sherman had pictured him in his mind, this was despite the fact he had nothing to go on except for that ridiculous name and a job profession. Dressed entirely in matching denim — most of it was old, torn through and looked to have smelled just terrible — Mad Dog Dan was tall, skinny and malnourished, but looked about as hard a man as Sherman had ever seen. His skin was tanned and cracked like leather, his face was a mass of pockmark scars barely hidden by his scratchy beard, and although he had a full set of teeth, each one to the last was yellow and brown and looked about one solid meal away from falling out.

“Mad Dog! What’s crackin’!” Nick waved as the two men approached him. Nick looked to be doing everything possible to hide how nervous he was around Mad Dog Dan; he waved enthusiastically and even went for a fist-bump when they got close enough... Mad Dog Dan did not return the fist-bump.

“This him then?” Mad Dog Dan stood with his hands wedged into his pockets, his back hunched and turned slightly away from the two, and his lip curled into a sneer.

“Ah, yes. This is he.” Nick grabbed Sherman by the shoulders and pulled him between the two men. “The one I was telling you about, Sherman Haas —”

“How are you?” Sherman hurried to cut Nick off. Although he didn’t think Mad Dog Dan was the kind of guy to flip and report Sherman to the police, Sherman also didn’t want him having his full name. “Nice to meet you.”

Mad Dog Dan continued to sneer as he eyed Sherman up and down; unimpressed was perhaps the only way to describe his look. “How much did you want?”

“Oh!” Sherman blinked. He had known the question was coming, but didn’t think it would be so direct. “I um... an eight ball, I think – that's what it’s called, yeah? I don’t usually buy in such large —”

“1 K.”

“Excuse me?”

Mad Dog Dan stunk... and that was putting it nicely. There was an odor drifting from him that was a mixture of body odor, cigarettes, stale booze and something else that Sherman couldn’t quite nail, but that was making it very hard to concentrate. Up this close too, the dirt on his skin was even more pronounced; in some places it even filled in his pockmarks.

“I said one thousand, cash.” Mad Dog Dan’s head suddenly swiveled