Читать книгу Dorian Gray - John Garavaglia - Страница 60

CHAPTER SIX

To survive war, you gotta become war.

—John Rambo.

“You just couldn’t wait for the rest of us, huh?” Said a man coming out of the shadows, and several armored henchmen accompanied him.

Dorian holstered his weapon, knowing the stranger was not a threat. He turned around and gave the leader of the small militia a smile.

“I’m sorry, Henry,” Dorian said casually, without the trace of a sincere apology in his voice. “It was a first-come/ first-serve ass-kicking buffet, and I got tired of hanging out at the bar.”

A smile formed on Henry Lord’s face, and a light chuckle had escaped from his lips. “Good ol’ Dorian Gray. You always shoot first and never ask questions. Are you all right? Are you hit?”

“Nope,” Dorian replied, grinning, “still untouched like a mafia don’s virgin daughter.”

“Thank you for that lovely image, Dor.”

Henry had black hair cropped to the scalp, large brown eyes, and a quiet disposition. He was moving quickly in the shadows. Dorian kept a close eye on him as he advanced. Henry stopped in front of him and brushed him aside. He gazed over at the other side of the train yard. He was ever so vigilant.

DORIAN GRAY

• 60 •