Eight
His muscles tightened until it seemed he might burst out of his clothes, but he didn’t look around, and the only move he made was to pick up the glass slowly. His hand was steady as he took a swallow. I knew that he considered throwing it in my face, but he knew I was aware of it and could pull the trigger faster than he could throw.
“I’m going to kill you,” he said. His voice was so low I could barely hear him.
“You’ve got it all wrong, Gino,” I said. “You’re not going to kill me. You’re not man enough. I’m going to kill you. But not directly. That would be easy. I’m going to make sure you get sent up for murder. I’m going to hang one on you, baby, that’s going to stick.”
He made a rude suggestion.
I laughed. “Take a walk, baby,” I said. I stood up and stepped back so he could
