He should have slept more last night. He should have put Serena off. Most guys would think it crazy to turn such hot sex down for any reason, and Jack would generally be inclined to agree, but things had been like this for the last few nights. Jack almost fell asleep while shaving in the bathroom mirror. He cut himself twice. He hardly even noticed the second cut until the blood dribbled down his thick wrist and marred his “Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap” tattoo. Jack stared down at it with red, blurry eyes and wiped the blood away. He kept shaving. He had to make this meeting. Even now, he hadn’t decided what he would tell those assholes from the State Department. Maybe he’d tell them the truth. He already had immunity. But then again, maybe he’d decide, fuck those guys, we didn’t do anything wrong. Lethal force was always part of the tool bag. Uncle Sam knew that when he hired Jack’s company. Hell, once upon a time, the government approved. The brats probably would’ve grown up to blow up some bus stop in Israel or something, anyway, he thought.
