“I’m afraid your understanding of the situation’s more muddled than a mojito, darling.” Nash Welter stretched an arm across his desk and flicked his lighter, touching flame to the tip of the dame’s trembling cigarette. “I’m only a hitman.”
The darling in question narrowed her eyes and inhaled deeply, staining the white paper
If I’d been smart, I never would have taken that dame’s job. Never should have left the office.
With the afternoon sun blazing down, I watched from my window as Mrs. Malloy strode down the street with her blond hair caught up in a net, a knit cardigan over her shoulders, and plaid skirt skimming her knees.
Read it now
The greeter looked tired, overworked. And she was definitely a cop. The way she stood, the way she talked…
Ah, Vinnie, I thought with amusement. All this for me?
Read it now
Recent Comments