Chapter 139

• Nathan straightened, brushing off some dirt his clothes picked up, then tugging at his shirt as he rotated his hips and flexed his legs with a grimace.
• “Damn it,” he muttered. “I knew I should’ve worn something more flexible.”
• He lifted his gaze to Jenkins. “You know,” Nathan began, rolling his shoulders loose, “I always used to think the mafia was just a bunch of junkyard dogs snorting crap, stabbing rivals, and blowing each other’s brains out over territory.”