5
Cuffs clinked as Spike ran his hands across the wall at his back. His fingers dipped into a mortar line. Concrete block. He sat, hands skimming the floor by his butt. More concrete. He held his breath. Best he could tell, there was only one other person breathing in this room. He leaned Art’s general direction. “You got anything on you?”
Chains rattled, feet scrambling. “A little close, bud. My wife’s the only person allowed to whisper in my ear.”
“You’ll get over it.” Spike scooted toward Art’s voice. “Just because we’re alone, doesn’t mean no one’s listening. What do you have on you?”
“Nothing but a knife and a few lempiras.”
“Good.”
“Good?” Art shouted and then lowered his voice. “I’d go for a f*****g RPG right now.”
“Good, in that you’re not gonna have to eat your ID. Prob
