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Bourbon On The Rocks #230


The gunshots continued. I wondered if Harrigan was doing his impression of a duck in a shooting gallery, running back and forth trying to make them waste ammo. But that wasn’t really his style. That kind of reckless behavior was usually reserved for someone like me.

I reached a trailer that looked like it would be the construction foreman’s office and slipped behind it. I tripped over something as I started moving again and looked down and saw a body. My blood ran cold.

But it wasn’t Harrigan. It was one of Diamond’s goons.

He’d had his big throat slit…

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