39Lance“Your little girlfriend is doing all the work for me,” Mr. Black says.
He leans over me, looking down his nose and into my face. Three goons stand behind him and judging by their expressions—rabid dogs would make them look tame—they’d love nothing more than to lay into me right now. Beat me so bloody that I can’t breathe and then finish the job with a bullet to the head. And that’s what’s going to happen, I think. But . . .
My lips are dry, chapped, and my body is in agony from being bent out of shape for so long.
“What—” I cough, my mouth tasting stale and off-putting. “What do you mean?” I manage to wheeze.
“Felicia and her father are having a little party. And when I say little party, I mean a party that could rival the most decadent of Ancient Lancen orgies. I have it on goo
