TWELVEThe telephone on the bedside table rang. Big Jim Bullock looked over at the clock. It was three in the morning and he’d been jarred out of a comfortable sleep. There was only one call he’d get at this ungodly hour and he was tempted to let it keep ringing. There were times he wanted to let the old sot end up dead in a ditch. He couldn’t remember how he’d ended up being the man’s protector. It wasn’t a role he enjoyed, not by a long shot. First the Judge and now Paco. That damn soft spot was giving him no end of trouble. He needed to take his own advice to Paco and grow a thicker skin. At least he didn’t wear it on his sleeve, unlike his houseguest who flaunted it as though it were something to be proud of. At times Jim found the line between kindness and weakness a blur.
The phone k
