It was six A.M. on the dot Thursday morning when Colt walked into Mitchell’s office. “Problems?” his boss asked before Colt had closed the door.
“You could say that.” Colt walked over to take a seat across the desk from him. “I stopped by to talk to Ben because he’d let me know he had some information I might like about one of the guys at the club.” Colt shook his head. “He was a day late and a dollar short, since I already knew what he told me. Anyway, when I left his place, someone did their damnedest to kill me.”
Mitchell c****d his head in question, as if what Colt had said was nothing out of the norm. “How?”
“First by running me down and when that didn’t work, taking pot shots at me and the guy who saved me from becoming another hit-and-run statistic.”
“I don’t suppose you got the
