Just shut up and read it
This story was published online in 2014 by The Stockholm Review.
The big Irishman swung his fist. I ducked, but too slow. The blow took me on the point of my chin and snapped back my head. But I’m two hundred and thirty pounds of private eye – I don’t go down easy.
‘You’re gonna make me mad, Red,’ I growled, wiping a smear of blood from my lip.
The Irishman grinned wolfishly.
‘There’s plenty more where that came from, shamus,’ he said.
Feinting a right, I hit him with a roundhouse left and then stepped inside, hammering double-fisted at his midriff. He grunted, stumbling backwards. That gave me the split-second I needed. I went for my hip pocket. But the big Irishman had the same idea.
Two revolvers roared in the alleyway.
The big Irishman –
Yes, you. This time, I wanna…
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