"You're a slut, and sluts need cock." "No, that's not what I meant..." she protested weakly. "I just... I..." "What?' he asked, crossing his arms. "...re you trying to tell me you're not a slut?" "Marcus, I..." she said. She hung her head. "That's what I thought." he said, smirking at her. "Get on your knees, Jennifer. That's where a slut like you needs to be, isn't it?" "Marcus, what are you doing?" she asked, alarmed. "No, please don't make me do this!" "I said get on your knees,. I have money. A lot of-" "I'm not interested in money," I interrupted, racking the arming slide back on my Colt forty-five. It's a beautiful antique. Not an energy weapon or pulse gun like most bounty-hunters use. It looks as scary as fuck if it's being pointed at you. The 45 calibre rounds make a mess. "I'm only interested in the girl. Where is she?" "I don't know. Fuck, man. I'm feeling kinda whoozy here. I'm fuckin dying," he said, clutching at his blood soaked shirt. "I swear I don't know. More

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