"What'll it be?" the bartender asked. He looked like he’d been carved out of granite and bad decisions.
"Deal," Rachel said. "Now, tell me about Locker 42." rachel roxxx
"It’s about to get rougher," she replied, her voice low. "You’re late, Kane." "What'll it be
The room plunged into semi-darkness as the bulbs shattered. "Now, tell me about Locker 42
"Whiskey. Neat. Keep the bottle within reach," Rachel said, sliding a fifty across the counter. She didn't wait for change.
"Traffic was a nightmare," Kane said, signaling for a water. "Plus, I had to make sure I wasn't followed by the three gentlemen sitting in the booth behind you."
Two shots pinged off the reinforced side panels of the van. Then they were clear, turning onto the main avenue, blending into the flow of late-night city traffic.