The Last Quarry (2011)
“Her jean jacket came off in my hand, and I discarded it like a used tissue as she did a half spin and landed rudely on the couch, opposite, breasts bobbling under the black t-shirt. A little suitcase was out in the hall, and I grabbed it and tossed it inside the apartment, and slammed the door and turned to glare at her.
But she didn’t scare easy, scrambling back off the cushions to get right in my face, holding the keys in her upraised fist like a blade. Eyes and nostrils flaring, white little feral teeth bared, she all but screamed: “What the fuck are you doing here?”
The petite dark-haired beauty had a little ring in her nose now; she was packing enough piercings to set off an airport metal detector.
As would my nine millimeter automatic, the snout of which I stuck under her defiant chin as I slapped the keys rattlingly from her fist.
“You first,” I said.
That took some of the fearlessness out of her. Her eyelids were quivering and she swallowed, or tried to. “Get...get that fuckin...g thing out of my throat, you prick.”MoreLess
But she didn’t scare easy, scrambling back off the cushions to get right in my face, holding the keys in her upraised fist like a blade. Eyes and nostrils flaring, white little feral teeth bared, she all but screamed: “What the fuck are you doing here?”
The petite dark-haired beauty had a little ring in her nose now; she was packing enough piercings to set off an airport metal detector.
As would my nine millimeter automatic, the snout of which I stuck under her defiant chin as I slapped the keys rattlingly from her fist.
“You first,” I said.
That took some of the fearlessness out of her. Her eyelids were quivering and she swallowed, or tried to. “Get...get that fuckin...g thing out of my throat, you prick.”MoreLess
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