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Dead End

Tommaso

The following morning, I bounced into the crappy little tavern and gave Ahmed’s bartender the password with a smile on my face. Whatever the bastard said he found, I had a name to throw at him. I finally had the goddamn upper hand.

I stuck my hand in my pocket to fidget with the edge of Paige’s photograph. If this lead panned out, I could be seeing her as soon as today. We could be on a plane home tomorrow. My life spread out before me, glittering and bright.

The bartender, for some reason, seemed to regard this with more suspicion than when I came in threatening him with a gun.

He let me back eventually, and I headed down the dark hall toward Ahmed. Even the dry, sweltering heat here couldn’t bring me down.

As always, Ahmed sat behind his desk with one lamp illuminating the whole room. Four massive goons, at least as big as me, stood along the back wall. I even recognized the one who escorted me to my hotel. One more than yesterday. Had something changed? Did he expect me to
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