For the second time in less than 24 hours, Silas’ face ached from the fist of another man. This time was worse. The punch caught him under his left eye but close enough to his nose that a dribble of blood left his nostril and his eyes watered. The same man who hit him grabbed his t-shirt lifting him off the filthy garage floor. Silas tried to focus and survival instinct made him throw a errant punch at his attacker. The man’s large hand landed on his throat and squeezed his windpipe. Another’s man’s drawl competed with his gasp.
“Relax, asshole. Just tell us where Bart is and you’ll be back across the street with that sweet thing you dropped off. Let go of him, Kenny.”
The man released his grip. Silas stumbled away from both men. He looked at the closed bay door and hoped Olive was…
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