The First Loser
Fred pulled his car onto the small unlit grassy area next to the road to wait.
His instructions were simple: Bring ten thousand or everyone will know. He’d only done one bad thing, and that was when he was drunk in college. But it was worth any price to keep hidden.
A light tapping on his window with a gun barrel broke his concentration.
Fred climbed out of his car. “Who are you? I didn’t mean to kill her.”
“Killed who? I’m here to collect for Demps, Jackson.”
“I… I’m not Jackson.”
“Shit. Not your lucky day then, is it?”