Chapter 23He was pissed off. Pissed off. It was not supposed to have gone down that way. Not that way at all. He'd been shot. He was bleeding and had left a blood trail on the pier. There was DNA in blood. All those times he wore gloves, and kept his head covered were for nothing. Now the police would have something on him, a solid lead.
He placed his left hand over the wound. It burned. He knew the slug was still inside him. He steered the car with his right hand. He tried keeping his eyes on the road. He watched his speed. Enough errors made. Last thing he wanted was getting pulled over. Not this close to the end of the game.
Not this close, dammit!
And damn, if he couldn't feel the disfigured ball of metal rattling around near his gut. He couldn't. It was in his mind, his imagination
