Lightning flashed across the coal-black sky, illuminating the figure lying prone on the ground beneath my feet. The wide-eyed expression that was left on his face showed that of surprise; like he hadn’t expected his life to be extinguished at that moment.
He should have expected it. It had been coming for a long time. Everybody who knew anything about the goings-on in this less-than-glamorous part of the city knew that Robbo Mitcham had been living on borrowed time.
He fancied himself as a big-shot drug dealer because he’d roughed a couple of people up and could intimidate the junkies that owed him. He’d gotten a little too cocky for his own good, though, and started slinging on the wrong turf.
Play stupid games, win stupid prizes. He’d had enough warnings.
One bullet, clean through his forehead. Point-blank range. He was dead before he even hit the ground. It was quite merciful, actually… or it would have been if he hadn’t been damn near decapitated after the fact.
That was what had Duggan hurling against the wall as the thunder rumbled from above and seemed to echo through the alley. Poor kid hadn’t encountered this level of gore yet. We’d all been there, but I’d seen it all by now. There was nothing…
