Chapter Twenty One

Hands in pockets, Jona entered the dark pub, glancing over at the big screen’s cricket game. A crowd watched a replay of the one-day international match. Veering past the snooker tables, Jona zoned in on a quiet booth held by one lone occupant. Jona slid into the opposite seat, and the man straightened.

“‘Cheers.’ Really? You chose a bar called ‘Cheers.’”

“They have good food. British pie.” Beady eyes took in Jona’s hoodie as the thug forked at a piece of pastry and chicken before swiping at the gravy on the plate. Harris shoveled the food into a hungry mouth, glancing up nervously at Jona’s lethal stare.

“What’s your fucking problem?” he asked.

“Imagining the different ways I could kill you. It’s a game.”

“You’re crazier than I am.”

“Damn right. And I’ve racked up more bodies at half your age. Never forget that