Jassy
“I told you,” Karl said to me, his voice more even and measured than it had any right to be, “we can't take her to a goddamned emergency room for a gunshot. Not unless you want the cops sniffing around. We've got a doc, she'll be fine. s**t happens.”
We were in his private office, now, back at Club Hellfire. They'd gotten us back in the pickup truck, along with the guns, and pulled us up here. Now, he sat there with his antique desk between us, just cool as a f*****g cucumber, and I couldn't stand it.
This motherfucker almost got us killed with his high-handed, over the top bullshit with robbing rigs and trying to rip off the Russian mob. “Probably some goddamned washed up vet assistant!” I screamed back, ignoring how calm he was.
I was furious. Not just at Benji getting shot, or
