I had the drop on him. Leveled my gun for a center-mass shot. He raised his hands, keeping in his kneeling position. The 9mm felt cool and firm, like taking an old love to bed.
I grinned. "You had to wear the red shirt today, eh McGee?" I said.
He smiled back, stood straight and lowered his hands. "Well actually, wearing a gold shir…"
I couldn't hear his statistic over the barking of the gun.
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