2.d.xiii
The bossman’s
car screeched to a halt at the front entrance to the Price Killers. There were streaks of automobile paint
scratched down the length the driver’s side and broken bits of taillights
lodged into the front bumper. The
bossman exited the vehicle, a huge, satisfied grin on his face, and thoughts of
those teenaged bastards trying to explain to angry parents just what had
happened to their speedy little cars drifting pleasantly through his mind.