The Judas Goat
“I said, “and stop.” He did. There was no gun in it. “Okay, now put both hands behind your back and clasp them.” I let go of his coat with my left hand and reached around and took the pistol out of his pocket. Target gun number four. I stuck it in my left-hand jacket pocket where it sagged very unfashionably. I patted him down quickly with my left hand. He didn’t have another piece. “Very good. Now put both hands back in your pockets,” He did. “What’s your name?”
“Suck my ass,” he said. “Okay, Suck,” I said. “We’re going down the corridor and pick up your buddy. If you have an itch, don’t scratch it. If you hiccup or sneeze or yawn or bat your eyes I am going to shoot a hole through your head.” I held the back of his collar with my left hand and kept the muzzle of my gun pressed in behind his right ear and we walked down the corridor. Past the elevator, behind the fire doors there was nobody. I hadn’t hit him hard enough and whiskers was up and away.
Write Review:
Guest
Read Also
9 / 10
10 / 10
User Reviews: