Allan Malcolmson

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She flinches like I’d clip a dame of her size, mouth slumping under its own weight. “He’s out. He’s working at the brickworks.” I glide my tongue along the back of my teeth, counting each stump before I start again. “Where?” Silence. A lick of chapped, bloodless lips. “Sister, here’s some free advice. Whatever mess you’re in, you should clean it up and get out.” “Excuse me? I—” I cock a bored stare. “You got a mug like a boxer. You want the same for your boys?” Her fingers twitch to her face. I’m lying, of course. The thing wearing her sweetheart was careful. If there are teeth marks, they’re ...more
Hammers on Bone (Persons Non Grata, #1)
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