Neon Shadows and Blood Money
The rain in Los Angeles didn't wash anything away; it just smeared the grime of the city into a neon-lit blur. Jack sat in his car, the smell of stale cigarettes and cheap bourbon filling the cabin. He was a man who had seen too many jungles in Vietnam and too many empty bottles in his kitchen. He was a ghost haunting his own life. The night the stranger arrived, the sky was a bruised purple,...
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