Chapters (95)
- Title Page
- Copyright
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Sixty-Two
- Sixty-Three
- Sixty-Four
- Sixty-Five
- Sixty-Six
- Sixty-Seven
- Sixty-Eight
- Sixty-Nine
- Seventy
- Seventy-One
- Seventy-Two
- Seventy-Three
- Seventy-Four
- Seventy-Five
- Seventy-Six
- Seventy-Seven
- Seventy-Eight
- Seventy-Nine
- Eighty
- Eighty-One
- Eighty-Two
- Eighty-Three
- Eighty-Four
- Eighty-Five
- Eighty-Six
- Eighty-Seven
- Acknowledgements
- About the Author
- Also by David Swinson
- Thank you for buying this ebook, published by Hachette Digital.
I turn to look at him. His finger is off the trigger. He gets closer so he can see me walk into the living room. I’d have a good chance of disarming him, but I can’t risk it. Last thing I want is to get shot or to shoot him.
“Okay, go. Sit away from your dang backpack at the end of the couch.”
“No problem.”
I sit down.
He sits on the armchair to the left of me, near the end table, an arm’s length from my backpack. Let’s hope he doesn’t ask to search it.
From where he’s sitting he can’t see the right side of my body. I act like I’m positioning myself on the sofa but manage to remove my gun from the holster and tuck it under my thigh. Just in case.
“I’m far enough away; you don’t have to point the gun at me. If you rest it on your lap you’ll be able to cap my ass before I get a chance to stand. I need to feel safe, okay? If we’re going to talk?”
He rests the gun on his lap, but he still has a grip on it.
“Thank you. I feel like I can breathe now,” I say. “Can you toss my pack of cigarettes and the lighter this way? I really need a smoke.”
He looks at them on the end table, tosses the cigarettes first, then the lighter. They land on the sofa, but I have to stretch a bit to get the lighter.
“Thanks.”
I light a smoke. There’s a tumbler on the end table at my side that used to have whiskey in it. I use it for an ashtray.
“Damn, that feels good. I got a little something that’ll help you out if you want,” I tell him.
“What do you mean?”
“I have a little weed.”
“What? You’re kidding me, right?”
“No. I’m retired. It helps me sleep at night.”
“No. I’d have to say no.”
“You’re pretty wired, Robby. Might help you think straight.”
“You gonna smoke some, too?”
“Sure.”
“Don’t tell me you need your backpack.”
“No. It’s inside the end-table drawer right next to you.”
He uses his left hand to open it.
“I use a pipe, but there’s some rolling papers in there, too.”
“Looks like some good bud,” he says, like we’re having a regular conversation now.
“It is.”
“What kind of ex-cop are you?”
“Weed’s legal in the District. You know that.”
“I guess, but still.”
He pulls out the baggie, tosses it to me, then the pipe.
“You don’t mind sharing a pipe with a crackhead, do you?” he asks me.
Shake my head. “Doesn’t look like you got blisters, you know, on your lips. I’m good.”
He almost smiles but pulls it back.