Jack Daniels And Associates: Snake Wine
“Jack paused at the boss's door, her hand hovering next to the brass name plate that read Captain of Operations, Phillip B. Miller. Miller was old-school. One of the few police administrators left in the city who'd never been to college. Irish, with a whiskey drinker's nose, he'd come up through the ranks on the Southside breaking batons on heads. Even when you talked to him now, he still had the look of a man who would toss his police hat aside and jump into an alleyway brawl, just for the fun ...of it.
She was bleary-eyed and jittery from lack of sleep. She'd skipped taking any sleep meds because it had been too late when she got home, and she knew she needed to be at this very place at this very time and have a somewhat clear head. Whatever happened next, she couldn't blame it on being in some Ambien fog.
Miller had worked with Jack's mom, Mary, back in the day running vice operations on tourists. He'd been the lookout while she stood on a streetcorner in a skirt, shaking it, luring the suckers in.MoreLess
She was bleary-eyed and jittery from lack of sleep. She'd skipped taking any sleep meds because it had been too late when she got home, and she knew she needed to be at this very place at this very time and have a somewhat clear head. Whatever happened next, she couldn't blame it on being in some Ambien fog.
Miller had worked with Jack's mom, Mary, back in the day running vice operations on tourists. He'd been the lookout while she stood on a streetcorner in a skirt, shaking it, luring the suckers in.MoreLess
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