“It was a groan of agony. “Mac! Oh, Mac! Oh, Mac! Her hand was on his shoulder, the top of his head, his arm. He got the impression that she was bending over him, peering into his face, but he couldn’t be sure because he couldn’t see. “I'm so sorry! I thought you were the hit man.”Then the horror in her voice gave way to-was it a giggle? Yes, it was. A whole infuriating string of them. Seconds later she was talking through them to someone - he couldn't quite make out what was being said, or who ...the newcomer was, although the voice sounded male. Still bent almost double, staggering around like a drunken hunchback, Mac felt stark fear override even the pain. She had rendered him – her supposed protector – all but helpless, and now, right at the worst possible moment, here came some unknown guy. Was it the hit man? Not likely. If it had been, she would have been dead by now, and so probably would he. Professional killers didn’t usually hang about exchanging conversation with their giggling victims.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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