His sun-kissed hair was expensively coiffed, and the only bulge he sported was the one in his pocket, where he kept his wallet.Īcrid wind shrieked as if someone had cranked a hard rock song on a radio, dancing thick dirt granules in every direction, Money radiated impatience mixed with glee-until two other men materialized a few feet away, and the impatience vanished. The other wore a perfectly tailored silk business suit, his Italian loafers freshly polished. There were telltale weapon bulges under his arms, at his wrists, and at his ankles. His syn-cotton shirt was torn, his jeans dirty, and his boots scuffed. One was tall, muscled, with dark hair and a busted-up face. TWO MEN STOOD IN the middle of a shadowed, barren field.
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