"I'm not talking."
"Suit yourself," I told him, feeding him a bullet for his troubles.
I could've made him bleed out, suffer. But I'm not a sadist. And chances are, the first responders would've shown up before he bled out, and he knew that.
I plucked keys from his pocket and walked out the door. I didn't have to get anything. There wasn't anything in the house I couldn't walk out on. It had to be that way, even though, up to this point, my life had remained monotonous.
I had a few places I could lay low at, just in case. The government would be looking for my car first, which gave me a few hours before they realized I was taking their car-in this case, a black Chevrolet Suburban.
Some things never change.
As I walked out to the SUV and hopped behind the wheel, it occurred to me that the next two days were going to be intense.
Laying low isn't as easy as it looks.
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