Thurston looks at Miller’s hand like it’s been dipped in manure. “I wouldn’t touch your hand if you were pulling me out of the wreckage of a burning plane… “
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Cody Thurston has always found when his adrenaline spikes, events around him slow to a crawl. So long as that slowness is not accompanied by paralysis, it can be a useful trait.
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…this is a grade-A stitch-up. There’s no point in Thurston protesting his innocence, no percentage gained in whining.
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If you look as though you belong somewhere, no one questions it, not even cops.
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…told himself he’d only touch it on a rainy day. Right now it’s pouring down.
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I’ll bury your pathetic fxcking career so deep you’ll need an archaeologist to find traces.
===

Today is darker and colder than a bailiff’s heart and blowing a gale. Or, in Icelandic terms, a stiff breeze.

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