Rambo was as cold as he had been in Dobzyn’s office, shivering. The lights in the ceiling were too close to his head; even so, the place seemed dark. Iron and cement. Christ, he should never have let Teasle bring him down. Walking across from the courthouse, he should have broken Teasle and escaped. Anything, even being on the run, was better than thirty-five days down here. What the hell else did you expect? he told himself. You asked for this, didn’t you? You wouldn’t back off. Damn right I wouldn’t. And I still won’t. Just because I’ll be locked up, doesn’t mean I’m finished. I’ll fight
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