“I don"t drink on the job!” she finally stated for the record and stared at the g*n as he popped out the cartridge and began popping out the bullets while he spoke. She didn"t know what sort of g*n it was, but it was black and ugly.“I think we need to come to some sort of understanding, Ann,” he said, his words punctuated by the heavy noise of the g*n as he moved it around on his desk, like he was a child playing with a toy. He replaced the ammunition into the cartridge. He popped the cartridge back into the g*n and settled it in front of himself on his desk, then folded his hands on the desk, just as if they were having a very normal discussion. Ann had never seen a g*n before. She was certain it was real. There was no question about it. What was he doing? Was he threatening her?
“I thin
