FORTY-ONE
Lassiter watched the house for some time from his vantage point before deciding to wait until the early morning. With the house quiet and everyone asleep, he’d sneak in, cut the big bastard’s throat, then rip the truth out of Knills, hang him by his ankles from the top storey window if need be. He’d soon squeal. If not, he’d show him the big guy’s body. That should do it. Snivelling little s**t.
He positioned himself between some bushes, tried to make himself comfortable, and failed. The rain had stopped but the ground remained sodden. And his hand ached where he’d lamped that other bastard back at the pub. He had a jaw like a b****y brick, but not many could recover from a dig from Lassiter. He’d made a good living from his fists, working on the doors after he’d left college w
