Short Story // Crime

Published online 2011 at The heated

Pain was the name on the streets.

It was a name that carried with it enough power that the crooked Narco detectives out of the 13th precinct on Chicago Avenue didn’t even attempt to pull Pain over and rob him for what he was worth (possibly millions) because they knew he was paid up to the right people; the kind of people who could force a cop into early retirement with half the pension. Plus, it didn’t hurt that he was backed by cold-blooded killers who could go out and make whole families disappear before returning home and fucking the living daylight out of their girlfriends as if it were nothing

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