Deception (Southern Comfort) by Lisa Clark O'Neill Page A

stuffing, but at least the destruction made up for the fact that he kept batting zero.  After almost two – or was it three?  Shit, probably closer to that – solid months of having to hang back twiddlin’ his thumbs, the damn boss had finally allowed him to do something.
    Not that ransacking this shithole was all that exciting, but it was for damn sure better than emptying out a bunch of friggin’ bedpans over at the hospital.  He’d smelled like a nasty-ass mixture of antiseptic and death for months. 
    The death, he was used to.
    The antiseptic made him want to gag.
    Friggin’ boss.  If he was gonna forge an identity for him to get him close to good ole Donnie, why hadn’t he made it something worthwhile?  He thought it might be fun to be one of them surgeons.  One little slip of the knife and whoops, Missus White bleeds to death.  Or Mister Jones starts singing soprano.
    He snickered, totally cracking himself up.
    It wasn’t like he hadn’t killed before. But doin’ it in the operating room, with a bunch of self-righteous nurses looking on in horror – well, that would be something new.  Then maybe he’d grab one of those nurses – like that bitch, Karen Davis, who was always looking at him sideways – and show her a thing or two about what he was really qualified to do.
    Damn.  Just the thought of it made him hard.
    And since the boss had finally found some balls and sent him to do something other than twiddle his damn thumbs, he had hopes that maybe he’d be seeing that kind of action again soon.  He’d love to get his hands on that stupid nurse, and definitely Donnie’s precious baby sister, before he disappeared back into the woodwork. Lord knew there were plenty of chances for a little accident to befall one or both of them.
    Leavin’ that hospital in the middle of the night could be dangerous for a lone woman.
    You never knew who might be out there, waiting in the back seat of your car.
    Joey blinked, realizing that he’d just been standing there for the past five minutes, letting his fantasies distract him from what he was supposed to be doing.  Not that he had any cause to worry about baby sister comin’ home, or any of the neighbors caring about what was happening and calling the cops, but still, a guy couldn’t be too careful.
    He shuddered out a breath, feeling the uncomfortable pressure of his erection straining against his zipper.  It had been too damn long since he’d had the particular brand of satisfaction he craved, and it was making him lose focus.
    He looked around at the remains of the wrecked apartment, sure that what the boss was looking for wasn’t here.  If it had been, he would have found it.  There weren’t exactly a lot of places to hide things in this cracker box.
    Which meant he’d have to keep an even closer eye on baby sister. 
    He moaned softly, thinking about how much more enjoyable it would be if he could just force the information out of her his way.  Just like he’d done with that other little bitch who’d given the boss problems.
    Damn, but she’d been a live one.
    Well, for a little while anyway.
    Joey slapped his leg, thinking that maybe he’d missed his calling.  He should have been a standup comic.
    Sighing, he got a grip on his wayward thoughts and shoved aside the little fantasy about baby Sammy.  His damn employer had been clear – don’t touch the sister.
    Not yet, at least.
    Not until they found what they were looking for, or good ole Donnie woke up and started talkin’. 
    And then they were both dead meat.
    Joey smiled coldly, closed his switchblade with a flip of his wrist, and picked up the flat-screen with a coordinated heave of thigh and shoulder.  With one last look around, he satisfied himself that it looked like your basic robbery.  Well, he admitted, eyeballing Sammy’s pretty panties with a shit-eatin’ grin, maybe he’d gone a little overboard. But a guy had to have some fun. 
    Joey’s rock-hard member pressed