They’d left it to Clint to tell him what had happened. Even then he’d come close to losing it.
The air crackled and a small charge was grounded by the metal of the dumpster. The brief spark threw his silhouette high up the side of the casino. s**t. He needed to keep control.
He looked about. No one around.
What was he going to do about the anchor? Persuade Kat to destroy it? Someone had to look after it, better some slightly barmy well-meaning religious type than someone with a real axe to grind. Kat didn’t seem much worse, she had her head screwed on, even if she was a little naïve, but her motives were cloudy.
He still wasn’t sure how she’d gotten him to do this. Was it the accent? A smile? More likely he was just gullible. A chance at real redemption, Fingers had suggested. Redempti
