CHAPTER TEN
Monday morning, I was sitting in my office thinking about Bailey Reid when I heard someone open and close the outer office door. I hadn’t hired a replacement for Rhonda, my former secretary after she retired. Not wanting to risk missing any impulse buyers that might wander in, I had left my office door invitingly ajar.
After he pushed my door open, a large, heavyset man with a neck wider than his small head filled the doorway. He was probably mid-forties, about my height, tan, and broad-shouldered, with close-cropped light brown hair. The guy had been muscular once, but most of it had gone to fat. He wore jeans, a tight T-shirt, and black tactical boots. A shorter, thick guy wearing a polo shirt buttoned to the neck followed him into my office.
“You Malone?” the tall guy sai
