Greed (Amber Monroe Crime Thriller, #1)

by C.M. Sutter

in.” McKinley sat behind his imported teak desk with paperwork spread out in front of him. As the door pushed inward, he slipped off his reading glasses and set them down. “What is it?” “We have a problem.” McKinley raised a brow. “Rephrase that, please. I know with one hundred percent certainty that I don’t have a problem unless you are about to cause one.” “I wasn’t expecting my cousin to stop over. He caught me completely off guard as I was

Meanwhile, where’s the damn paper?” “It’s in the cube van. I’ll back the van in, unload it, and then go get Charlie.” McKinley took in a deep breath and leaned back in his butter-soft leather office chair. He pressed his fingertips against his forehead and tried to rub out the stress. “Yeah, okay, bring him in. He damn well better be blindfolded the entire way here. Better yet, lock him in the back of the van.” He jerked his head toward the door. That was Joe’s cue to leave. “Now go. Get Royce to help you unload the paper. I want this bullshit out of my mind before noon.” Joe extended his hand to shake Mr. Moore’s. He seemed grateful.

turned the wand on the blinds and watched as the van drove away from the garage next to the loading dock. He scanned the area before closing the blinds. Several boarded-up warehouse buildings filled the space between his rental unit and two others at the end of the dead-end street. Being located in Milwaukee’s worst neighborhood was a good thing—nobody was stupid enough to stop by. It was ten o’clock when he made another check of the time. An hour had passed, and the van would be returning soon. McKinley cleared the paperwork off his desk and neatly organized every sheet into its own file cabinet folder. He closed the cabinet, turned the key in the lock, and dropped it in his front pants

from his grasp. “Leave me the hell alone. I’ll do it myself.” He reached behind his head, untied the rags, and dropped them to the floor. McKinley gave Juan a nod and asked him to leave the room. “So, Mr. Dupree, you think you’re hot shit, right?” Charlie jerked his head and, with a smug response, answered the question. “From this side of the desk, it looks like I’m going to be calling the shots. I know exactly what this operation is and the kind of money you probably make—literally.” He laughed at his own quick wit. McKinley laughed with him. “Nice comeback.” He gave Joe a glance and saw relief spread across his face. “Here’s my proposition, your position, and your cut if I hire you.” He opened the bottom desk drawer. Charlie huffed. “From where

us. “Amber and Kate, tag along with Clayton and Billings. There’s trouble on Paradise. I have to call the ME and Forensics.” I closed the folders that were spread out across my desk, guzzled the last of my soda, and rose. Until we were promoted to sheriff’s office detectives, our jobs were to do whatever we were told to do as we transitioned from deputies to investigators. “Don’t you mean there’s trouble in paradise?” Clayton waved us to the door. “Let’s go, ladies. Somebody just called in two dead bodies lying