Things Slip Through
“Damn. You still sick? Fuckin lightweight.”
Connor heaved once more and wiped his mouth, shivering. John nudged him with one of his Timberlands. “Fag.” A pause. “But so’s Brian. Who woulda thought?”
Connor shivered, unwillingly thinking about last night. In a way, Brian was lucky. When he’d showed up and had seen Pital gagged and tied to a chair, he’d told John, “No way, man. This shit’s over the edge.” John had lost it, lit into Brian and beat the shit out of him. When he was through, he’d let Brian crawl away, threatening to “deal with him later.”
Bab Populer