[For Logan & Neil]
The only thing worse than a botched bounty, Joe figured, was going back to the guys who'd hired him and telling him that he'd fucked up their bounty. That the kid they were looking for, the one in the pictures with the dark hair and the big eyes, she was still out there. She was still running around Miranda, acting like some fucking big shot because she'd been carrying a gun -- which Joe hadn't been told -- and had managed to get off one good shot.
No, maybe the one thing that was worse than admitting he'd fucked up a bounty was admitting that he'd fucked up on a tiny female bounty. That a seventeen-year-old girl had gotten the better of him. That the reason his shoulder was still stinging and bleeding was because her shot had just grazed him, burning through his clothes and his skin within seconds. Fucking cunt.
It was dark when he finally left John's safe house after hiding out there all day. Bruised and sore, Joe had needed the place to crash, but now he needed to get out again. Being shot sucked, yeah, but it was the guys who'd hired him who'd done the nice work on his face. A black eye and a split lip weren't anything new to Joe, but it was the bruised ribs that hurt.
Limping slightly, he turned toward the Chapterhouse, then thought better of it and just stood where he was on the street, guns heavy and comforting against his back and his thigh. He was in a bad fucking mood.
No, maybe the one thing that was worse than admitting he'd fucked up a bounty was admitting that he'd fucked up on a tiny female bounty. That a seventeen-year-old girl had gotten the better of him. That the reason his shoulder was still stinging and bleeding was because her shot had just grazed him, burning through his clothes and his skin within seconds. Fucking cunt.
It was dark when he finally left John's safe house after hiding out there all day. Bruised and sore, Joe had needed the place to crash, but now he needed to get out again. Being shot sucked, yeah, but it was the guys who'd hired him who'd done the nice work on his face. A black eye and a split lip weren't anything new to Joe, but it was the bruised ribs that hurt.
Limping slightly, he turned toward the Chapterhouse, then thought better of it and just stood where he was on the street, guns heavy and comforting against his back and his thigh. He was in a bad fucking mood.