The Suppressor Erik Carter (books suggested by bill gates TXT) 📖

Doughty turned to Silence, more of his pride crumbling away. His gaze snapped back across the hood to Lee. “Get in the car.”

Lee made eye contact with Silence.

Silence shook his head.

“Get in the damn car!” Doughty said.

Lee looked back and forth between them. Stopped on Silence. And finally turned to Doughty, shook his head.

“Shit!” Doughty said and dropped into the cracked vinyl seat. “Goddamn idiot.”

He slammed the rusty door. His eyes met Silence’s, burning. The car bolted off and screeched around the corner ahead. The bass came to life, so loud it rattled the rotting body panels.

The El Camino disappeared.

Silence went to the sidewalk. He put his hands in his pockets and looked down upon Lee. The kid was tall but not nearly as tall as Silence.

“Talk,” Silence said as quietly as his voice would allow.

He’d considered saying something more intimidating, something to scare the shit out of the kid. But his throat was hurting bad after the second, louder time he’d growled at Doughty. And, of course, Lee was already scared, shaking.

Which brought forth an intriguing notion, one that C.C. would have been very much in agreement with: Less is more.

Silence was tall, big, and had severe features and a demonic voice. He didn’t need to say much to impart the intimidation that Nakiri had preached. He could say one syllable, Talk, and let other people do all the speaking, lowering the number of sounds channeling through his painful throat.

A good idea. He’d remember it.

Lee’s lower lip trembled. His skin was a pale caramel color, dotted with freckles. He wore his beanie far back on his head, his hairline propping it up.

“I just follow him around, man. He told me he could help me out, that two people are better than one, you know? He’s from Mobile. Just a thief, a petty criminal, but he’s trying to make a name for himself here in Pensacola. There’s this mob family. They’re called the Farones. And there’s this other group he’s been hearing about, the Burton gang. You’ve probably never heard of these groups, have you, someone like you in your nice clothes in this nice neighborhood?”

Oh, you’d be surprised, Silence thought.

But Silence played dumb. He shook his head.

“Well, Doughty thinks if he can make a name for himself around town, he’ll impress them, get a foot in the door. And he wanted a partner. See, I met him at the gas station after school let out one day, and—”

Silence held up a hand.

Had the kid really just said “school”?

“Age,” Silence said.

Lee cocked his head. “You mean, how old am I?”

Silence nodded.

“Seventeen.”

Silence sighed.

Even younger than he’d thought.

And the kid had gotten himself involved with an out-of-state petty thug whose biggest aspiration in life was joining up with Burton.

Silence was glad he’d followed his gut instinct. He needed to divert this kid’s life path, put a peg right in front of a line that was barreling toward a horrible future. He needed to do so immediately. But how?

Due to Silence’s size, strength, and his monster voice, Nakiri had told him that intimidation would be one of his strongest traits. This had proven very effective moments earlier with Doughty.

However, Nakiri had also said, Never forget about deception. When situations are critical or when adrenaline is flowing, when bullets are flying, it’s easy to not consider finesse. But don’t forget about it.

Silence pointed to the street ahead of them where Doughty had taken off. “You’re done with him.”

He flicked back his sport coat, revealing a flash of his shoulder holster, the Beretta within.

Lee gasped. “Shit, you’re a cop! Yes … yes, sir. I won’t talk to him again. I mean, the guy’s a loser anyway. I … I’ll never contact him again. I promise.”

Silence nodded. He grabbed a quarter from his font pocket, took his wallet from his back pocket. He handed Lee the quarter and a twenty-dollar bill, then pointed down the street in the opposite direction of where he’d pointed moments earlier.

“Pay phone. Two blocks down.” Sharp pain in his throat. He paused. Swallowed. “Call taxi.” Swallowed. “Never come back here.”

Lee clutched the bill in both hands, nodded fervently, then spun around and took off. He wasn’t going to blow this second chance Silence had given him.

“Thank you,” the kid called over his shoulder.

Silence watched him retreat down the sidewalk, then turned back for the house.

A few moments later, he stepped up to Mrs. Enfield. He didn’t sit back down beside her, though, just stopped and stood next to her. Doughty had delayed him, and now he had to double down. He had to get back to his house.

And move on to the next step toward stopping Burton.

Mrs. Enfield smiled up at him, and her face seemed calm, but her quivering hands gave her away. She was a resolute woman and prideful in the best possible way.

Silence knelt down, laid one of his big hands over both of hers, pressed against the shaking.

“They’re gone?” she said.

“They’re gone.”

She pulled one of her hands out from beneath his, placed it on his cheek. “Thank you, Silence.”

Baxter had returned to his spot beneath the table. Silence picked him up, placed him on Mrs. Enfield’s lap, then stood.

“Have to go.” He swallowed. “Work to do.”

“Be safe.”

She’d said it with triple-filtered purity. There was no hiding from this intuitive woman the fact that he was in a violent line of work. She didn’t want the responsibility or liability of knowing exactly what it was he did—and he couldn’t blame her—but she’d also quickly grown to care genuinely about him.

It wasn’t a platitude, what she’d said. She meant it. She wanted him to be safe.

“I will,” he said and left.

In his house, he went straight for the kitchen, where he first put Doughty’s gun in a drawer, then moved on to his primary objective: the refrigerator. He grabbed one of the bottles. Cold and heavy, dappled with moisture.

His mind flashed on Mrs. Enfield, the genuine concern she’d just shown him, her vigilance about his drinking.

He would drink this