I dragged my gaze from the thing to the Nicky Baco still lying on the bar, gagged and bound and bloody. I had brought four knives with me. I didn't even blink. I haven't done anything wrong, yet.
There was the close smell of sweat and the scent of the fur he'd worn. The grandstanding has taken up all my time. Just tell me. But there was a pile of big, fluffy towels, and I had Deuce's handgun.
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