“His eyes lifted to Stryker. “Why did you do that, damn you?” “We’ve got work to do.” “Get away from me, Stryker. You’re the devil.” Stryker smiled. “All right, that’s it.” He grabbed Birchwood by his shirtfront, hauled him to his feet and stuck his face close to his. “I’m not a forgiving man, Lieutenant, but I’ve been willing to let things slide because you were drunk. From now on, you address me as sir, or Lieutenant Stryker, whatever you please. But if you ever call me only by my last name ag...ain, I’ll beat the shit out of you. Do you understand me?” Birchwood nodded, his mouth hanging slack. “Yes.” “Yes, what?” “Yes, sir.” Stryker’s eyes were merciless. “You’re full of self-pity because you had to kill a dying man. Well, we’ve both had to kill dying men. You get over it, Mister. You don’t crawl into a whiskey bottle and try to forget that it ever happened. Once you do that, you’ll have to stay inside the bottle for the rest of your miserable life, looking out from behind the glass.”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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