All the Dead Fathers
“With the light back on and the priests settled down and facing her again, Kirsten introduced the man who’d come through the window. “My man in charge of security,” she said, “Milo Radovich. But you can call him Cuffs.” She turned to him. “Right, Cuffs?” She waited, but his only answer was a scowl, so she addressed him again. “Some of these gentlemen here were questioning whether you were actually on duty last night.”
Cuffs Radovich was a rectangle, the shape of the window he’d come through, and... seemed only slightly smaller. His black raincoat hung open over a black turtleneck and black pants. His black fedora was narrow-brimmed and looked too small for him. His face was dark and deeply lined, and a thick gray mustache drooped down along both sides of his mouth. He studied the priests in front of him like they were creatures in a zoo.
Finally he shifted his attention to Kirsten. “I’m not your man—or anyone else’s man.” His voice was deep and harsh. “And I don’t give a fuck what these ‘gentlemen’ question.MoreLess
Cuffs Radovich was a rectangle, the shape of the window he’d come through, and... seemed only slightly smaller. His black raincoat hung open over a black turtleneck and black pants. His black fedora was narrow-brimmed and looked too small for him. His face was dark and deeply lined, and a thick gray mustache drooped down along both sides of his mouth. He studied the priests in front of him like they were creatures in a zoo.
Finally he shifted his attention to Kirsten. “I’m not your man—or anyone else’s man.” His voice was deep and harsh. “And I don’t give a fuck what these ‘gentlemen’ question.MoreLess
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