Raptor
FRUSTRATED AND TIRED of driving, I went back to Griffin’s. When I arrived, Slammer and Tank were sitting outside in the darkness, their backs against the picnic table. They were both having a smoke and talking quietly; I could see from the lines on Slammer’s face that he was exhausted.
“Did Chopper find anything?” I asked, shoving my keys into my leather.
“No. Doesn’t look like we’ve been wired or bugged,” he replied. His legs were stretched out and he was staring down at his black leather boots, which appeared to be brand new. “Like ‘em?” he asked, noticing me looking.
I nodded. “Yeah. They new?”
“Yep. Frannie got them for me today at the mall. She’s a good woman. Always doing stuff. Frets over me like I’m one of her kids.” He let out a ragged sigh.
“What’s wrong?” asked Tan
