escriveine

Ray spit out the sour grit in his mouth and immediately resolved two—no, make that three things: one, to strap another knife someplace easier to reach when he was tied to a freaking chair; b, to sign up for that Houdini escape artist course thing down at the Learning Annex; and third, to never, ever tell Fraser that in a moment of desperation after being roughed up, tied down, knocked out, and locked away someplace pitch black, he'd not only deliberately licked the floor, but that it had worked — and that meant Whiskey Novotny was due for a size 10 kick in the head.

As the two biggest pains in his bunions poured themselves into the Lieutenant’s office chairs, both reeking like imminent single malt lawsuits, Welsh rubbed at the 36-hour stubble on his jaw, and said, “Can one of you tell me why there’s a wolf puking into my office trashcan when Vecchio’s desk is so conveniently located within staggering distance in the squad room?”