6 THE KILLERS NEVER LEAVE US
Percy Hawthorne tried ripping free from the one-handed grip latched onto his wrist, but the man who had dropped in the seat next to him was deceivingly strong.
“Do you know who I am?” the man asked with hardly a muscle-twitch in his expression. It was as if the steel-wrenching strength came without effort. He slapped a small stack of papers onto the lacquered, wooden table.
Beneath the twisting grip, Percy’s skin burned like a snake bite.
He searched the trendy eatery for help, but it was too early for any lunch crowd.
Kelly was far in the back preoccupied with wiping tables. Apparently out of the entrance bell’s earshot, he hadn’t glanced up from his duty when the stranger entered The Serene Woods Cafe. Kelly had already served Percy a steaming cup of mid
