Marta slid into the booth across from him, her smile a razor nick. "You look like a cop with a stomachache."
Outside, a car door slammed. Three men. Heavy shoes. skin trade fast
"I look like a man who wants what's in your safe." Marta slid into the booth across from him,
The curtain ripped open as he reached the safe. He didn't look back. He worked fast — because in the skin trade, slow meant you left your own hide behind. skin trade fast
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