The game was dying down by the time Gordon and Wilson burst inside to interrupt the action. Each of them wore dark trenchcoats and cheap ski masks, approaching the short-handed card game like they meant business. Imbued with pride, they waved those sawed-off shotguns at the usual patrons, all men they’d gotten fucked-up with or...
My feet prodded the creviced and crumbling tarmac with the uneasy grace of a criminal’s waltz. It was one o’clock at night, sky barren, and the slivered crescent moon emitted a piss yellow glow only so because of the dust and death that dwelled in the street-lit Phoenix skies. The poisonous smog that stretched across...