The security guard was right behind him now and I
wanted so badly for this guy’s head to explode, a bullet to slapped into the
back of his skull, push through the brain and burst out of his eye socket that
I could feel his blood splatter on my face already. I wanted him dead because
of what he represented to me; the men that kidnapped and murdered my son,
slashed my second ex wife’s face and made me into the three A.M shell sitting by
this terminal, writing this fucking book. I wanted him dead because he wanted
me dead and maybe if I got really lucky he’d squeeze off a shot that would land
high and we’d both go together?!
‘Now...Mr Spencer...put the gun down.’ I said it
slowly and clearly and he did just as I asked. He dropped the gun and his life
was his own again.
More tomorrow if you're really unlucky.
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