Click here for previous installments FOURTEEN It was the honking that brought him out of it, forcing him to notice the guy behind him in the jacked-up stepside. The driver was gesturing at the car’s length that had opened up, leaning out now, yelling...
Click here for previous installments TWELVE The man in the ragged fatigue jacket sidled over to the white car and eased in. “Classy,” Wil said. “Explains the naked vagrant I saw back there.” Mo Epstein eyed Wil’s stained bomber jacket, jeans, and...
Click here for previous installments TEN Wil aimed the .45 and fired; a plume of reddish dirt rose and fell with a clatter of stones. Aiming again, he squeezed off another round: Fifty feet away, the soup can jerked in the air and clinked against the...
Click here for previous installments EIGHT Leonardo Guerra put the phone back in the onyx cradle. Sunlight slanting through the French doors illuminated the smoke from his cigar, an exceptionally fine Havana. For a moment he watched it waft upward...
Click here for previous installments SIX Paul was up and glad for the company; as he listened to Wil’s plan to meet Freiman and Vella, he blew on decaf, then offered his opinion. “Sheeit. Probably just my Hispanic instincts about cops, but I’d be...
Click here for previous installments FOUR Wil covered the seventy-five miles to the San Fernando Valley in just over an hour. Winter Santa Anas had blown out the usual murk leaving a tapestry ringed by unexpected mountains, the effect one of...
