He nods his head to him. “Kill him,” he says, looking at Hartley. Hartley shrugs, jerks his Glock from his holster, sets it on the guy's forehead, and pulls the trigger. Without a trace of remorse on his face, Hartley tucks his gun away. Ghost’s eyes widen. “Just like that, huh? Cop one day, mobster the next?” Hartley shrugs again, unfazed. “This is a better life any day.”
