The Dim-Witted Hitman: A Cruise Crime by Deb Graham
“Dimmie, my boy, it looks like you’re going on a luxury cruise.”
With those words, the hot-headed Irish mobster sends his best hitman to take out his old rival. He’ll never control the mob so long as Kerrick is alive.
Dimmie (short for Dim Wit) O’Malley, who has never been out of New York City, is trapped in a life he didn’t choose. Completely out of his element, he makes a mistake that’ll cost his life…if he returns home.
A former mob boss, grieving the loss of his wife, refuses to stay in Witness Protection another day, and retires on a cruise ship. Having no idea he’s Dimmie’s next target, will his old skills save him in time?
Dimmie, realizing at the last that he’s better than he’s been told his whole life, has a change of heart that only serves to put him in Lucky’s crosshairs. When their paths collide on a luxurious New England cruise ship, only one of them can leave the ship alive. Or will he?
From the author of Murder on Deck, Peril in Paradise, and the best-selling Cruise Addict’s Wife series.
Targeted Age Group:: adult (mild)
Heat/Violence Level: Heat Level 2 – PG
What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
The best stories start with a question. What if the Bad Guy really isn't all that bad? What if a man who's been put down his whole life is actually stronger than he knows? What if a different BAd Guy did what he had to do for the sake of honor and integrity? Is anyone really who they seem to be? You'll find yourself cheering for the assassin–and how often does that happen? You'll love the humor throughout.
This was a fun book to write! The characters flowed.
How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
I think people often believe what they're told. In this case, Dimmie has been told he's weak and not all that bright. His own mother calls him Dim Wit! Once on his own, for the first time in his life, Dimmie dares to think and even to trust a little. I think you'll come to love Dimmie as much as I do.
Book Sample
In the glaring lights underground, a busker caught his attention, one of those street performers. The violinist swept her bow in wide arcs, eyes closed. She was pretty good, he had to admit, and that slinky black dress did a favor to her figure. Lucky reached into his pocket to drop a couple bills into the open violin case on the dirty concrete floor. Glancing up as the One train southbound pulled into the station, his eyes skimmed the crowd. A person had to keep his wits about him; he’d learned that early on.
A man stepping onto the southbound made him do a double-take. From the back, something about the guy looked familiar. Thin shoulders under the grey trench coat, fedora in place, paper bag in hand…One of the old guard, no doubt, a retired cop, maybe. Lucky watched the old man step onto the subway train, jostled by a group of youth. He reached for a handrail, turning slightly. Lucky drew in his breath.
It couldn’t be…after what was it, six years?
No way.
That nose. He’d never forget that nose, which he personally saw old Archie McCain break for Colin Kerrick in a bar fight more than fifteen years ago. The old man never could wear sunglasses again with it bent left like that, but poor Archie got the worst of it. Hitting the up-and-coming boss like that, the boys saw to it he was wearing cement shoes in the East River before morning. Archie hadn’t even put up a fight or nothing. He knew he’d crossed a line and that was that.
How could Kerrick be back in the city? How could he dare step foot on the mob turf after what he did? Lucky reached in his pocket as the northbound pulled in. Never mind catching the train; he some calls to make.
He smashed his fist into the club’s cement wall twenty minutes later, shaking off the sharp pain. Colin Kerrick had given them the slip, and Lucky was livid. He swept the lamp off his desk, ignoring the flying glass shards when it struck the floor.
“Don’t worry, Boss,” Ricky assured him. “We got our best tech guys, the IT gurus, on it. One good thing about all those RedyGuard Spec traffic cameras the city put up, we got guys who can tap into the feeds and run facial recognition. If it was even him, I mean.” How could it be? Ricky figured Lucky was mistaken; nobody was foolish enough to come back to the City after turning state’s evidence, not even old Kerrick.
“Didn’t your momma teach you to talk English? I don’t even know what you’re talking about. All I gotta say is, somebody better find out where he went.” Voice rising, Lucky bellowed, “I saw him, I know it was Colin Kerrick, I tell you it was him. I want him snuffed out before I eat my lunch tomorrow. Who does he think he is? It’s my city now. How dare he step foot in my city?”
With Lucky still shouting, Ricky fled. Something crashed against the wall as he turned the corner.
That arm.
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