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Summary
James was really fucking tired of having to help another man take a piss three times a day, especially a man who was so… mustached.
“We need to talk,” he announced, striding towards the sicario Teresa had captured when the cartel soldier was sent to kill her. The older, barrel chested and stocky man was zip tied - hands and feet - to a chair James had bolted to the dock. The prisoner didn’t respond. He just glared up at James from under a heavy brow, his mouth no doubt set in a grimace even if the aforementioned facial hair prevented anyone from seeing his lips.
Series
- Part 3 of Vague Places
