Junk Shop Blues (Criminal Intentions, #2)

by Cole McCade

“Does it bother you?” Malcolm asked. “Knowing he’s judging us.” “No.” Seong-Jae shrugged lightly. “He does not know me. He does not know my background, or what culture or privilege I have experienced, or my tastes, or my education. That he judges based on my occupation and clothing is his problem, not mine.”

Seong-Jae clenched his teeth, but made himself hold still while the strange man patted over him. Glock first, then the second Glock against his spine, then the Colt at his hip, the dagger against his calf, the second dagger up his left sleeve, the brass knuckles in his coat pocket—until the man was having trouble juggling everything. “What the fuck, Seong-Jae,” Malcolm said.