Rodrik and the men needed no further prompting, hurrying away from her. Each man kept his eyes trained on her until she was well out of sight. And they didn’t drop their guards then, either…
“Why do you eat that crap, Tony?” My assistant’s sudden question caused me to curse, and I nearly dropped carefully wrapped burrito in my hand.
“A man’s hands are his life, Rodrik. They’re the tools of his trade, no matter what that trade might be…”
A continuation of the Sci-Fi story I had posted a prologue chapter of some time back!