“Old habits, sweetheart. Michael had a habit of cheatin’ the reaper. Just makin’ sure he didn’t pull a Houdini on us one last time.”
T-Bag tilted his head. Rain dripped from the brim of his hat. “No. I ain’t.”
Later, at his motel, he watched the news report of Poseidon’s arrest. Then, very calmly, he opened a drawer and pulled out a small, worn photograph—a boy, maybe seven, with the same sharp eyes and dark hair.
“Old habits, sweetheart. Michael had a habit of cheatin’ the reaper. Just makin’ sure he didn’t pull a Houdini on us one last time.”
T-Bag tilted his head. Rain dripped from the brim of his hat. “No. I ain’t.”
Later, at his motel, he watched the news report of Poseidon’s arrest. Then, very calmly, he opened a drawer and pulled out a small, worn photograph—a boy, maybe seven, with the same sharp eyes and dark hair.
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