He leaned forward and folded his hands on his desk. I'd tortured him, made him tell us where they were, and when we were done with him, I'd shot him in the head, and made the screaming stop. You had your chance, I said, and I sounded mad. I didn't think knife.
I can't even remember what it was that Gina wouldn't do. I closed my eyes and willed myself to sober up. Blurred so many lines. I could hear his heart racing, feel his pulse against the side of my face, where his neck lay, warm and close above me.
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