Shell Scott's mental contemplation was rudely interrupted when his office door was suddenly opened and an unpleasant little man walked in with a .45 caliber automatic pointed right at Shell's midsection. Unknown to Shell Scott, some guy named Sader wanted Shell eliminated permanently. Why, is the question? Shell had never heard of Sader. His answer came in the form of a red-headed bombshell in high heels who distracted the hood long enough for Shell to connect hard on the guy's chin. But before he could get the answers he needed, the red-head disappeared.
©2000 Richard S. Prather (P)2010 Books In Motion
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