Squall
“He flipped the shot over and read the inscription, written in an elegant script: With love, Mandy and Steve.
He found a flat leather pouch behind the visor with the man’s pilot license in it, his name—Tom Stokes—and the address of his aviation business, which, Sanj could see now, was also where the fucker lived.
He tucked the photo and the pouch into his coat pocket. He noticed a bunch of keys hanging from the ignition and took those, too.
He got to the floor and sat on the edge of ...the tub, his head pounding, blood still trickling from his scalp wound. He felt foggy, the pain making it difficult to think. He had to determine how the fuck he was getting out of here...but his gaze kept drifting to his brother’s body, lying there under his coat. They had no family in this country, their parents both dead, and the rest—aunts, uncles, cousins—all back in India and long since estranged. There was no one that cared whether they lived or died.MoreLess
He found a flat leather pouch behind the visor with the man’s pilot license in it, his name—Tom Stokes—and the address of his aviation business, which, Sanj could see now, was also where the fucker lived.
He tucked the photo and the pouch into his coat pocket. He noticed a bunch of keys hanging from the ignition and took those, too.
He got to the floor and sat on the edge of ...the tub, his head pounding, blood still trickling from his scalp wound. He felt foggy, the pain making it difficult to think. He had to determine how the fuck he was getting out of here...but his gaze kept drifting to his brother’s body, lying there under his coat. They had no family in this country, their parents both dead, and the rest—aunts, uncles, cousins—all back in India and long since estranged. There was no one that cared whether they lived or died.MoreLess
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