35
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“I DON’T FUCKIN’ CARE how much you’re paying me!” Benny 7-11 screamed into the cell phone, “A fuckin’ house! A fuckin’ house with not just some old lady livin’ in it, AN OLD LADY WITH A COCKSUCKING COP SON!”
The yelling brought Nick back to life, his head hazy. The pain in his chest was severe, a deep gash draining him like a bull hanging in a slaughterhouse. He could see his mother slumped in her chair, as their attacker paced back and forth in the foyer, waving Nick’s service weapon to punctuate his point to whoever he was talking to.
“Done? That all you fuckin’ care about? Yeah, it’s fuckin’ done, asshole. But now I’m a cop killer. How do you suggest I get rid of this little problem? The LAPD isn’t exactly known for being forgivin’ when one of their own gets disappeared.
