He suddenly felt like he’d snorted a mixture of cayenne pepper and glass before everything went dark. What felt like only moments later, he came to on the floor of the kitchen. He sat up. His face felt as if it’d been hit with a baseball bat and his head actively pounded with the worst headache he’d had in years, including any of his monster hangovers. He touched his nose and winced at the pain. He could feel crusted, dried blood around his mouth and chin. He could also taste the coppery residue in his mouth. He squinted his eyes in the dying light of the day and tried to focus them. It took a moment before it all came flooding back; he was in the flophouse with Liz and the place had been scrubbed clean. There had also been someone at the top of the steps waiting for them to come up from the basement. “You’re awake,” Liz said from behind him. Max turned to see her standing beside a man tied to a chair in the middle of the kitchen. He recognized the man instantly. Gabe Harris.
