“So drunk that slapping him upside the head with his Glock was useless. Isaac did it anyway. The head trauma caused Mickey to vomit on the already nasty, dirty floor. Good, Isaac thought. Some of the drunk probably oozed out of him when he threw up. Now he’ll be able to feel this kick. “Urrrgggh!” Mickey screamed as Isaac kicked him in the back. Isaac then sent a heavy handed blow to Mickey’s head. “Ah, man, that hurt.” Mickey’s wobbly hand reached for his gun. Isaac ripped it out of his holster..., and kicked him again. Several kilos decorated the dilapidated dining room table. Back in the day, Isaac would have killed this low-life, took his stuff, and sold it himself. Hadn’t he just crawled back into his past? He might as well take that stash and get his grind on. He sure wasn’t going to have a church job to go back to after this, and a man’s gotta eat. “I—Isaac, man, I’m sorry,” Mickey said with a pained expression on his face. Reaching down, Isaac grabbed a fist full of Mickey’s shirt and pulled him up.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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