“Gus said, his hands squeezing the wheel like a stress ball. “When did Ellie first break your heart?” We were right outside of San Antonio and heading toward the border crossing at Nuevo Laredo. Apparently the border there was pretty lax and Gus didn’t expect us to get questioned much, if at all. The Mexicans didn’t really care who came into the country, even though the border line-up on the other side promised to be a nightmare. We couldn’t take chances, though. I was all poised to cross over a...s Connor Malloy, a regular Joe and not at all a wanted fugitive. “What makes you think she broke my heart?” I asked, looking at the flat, dry scenery skirt past us. Ranches, ranches, ranches. I saw him shrug out of the corner of my eye. “Only a hunch. Not many men turn into the tattoo artist version of Lawrence Olivier in Marathon Man. Just swap torture with a dentist drill for a tattoo needle.” “I’ve seen the movie,” I muttered. I looked down at his watch on my wrist, feeling heavy and foreign.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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