The two were parked in an alley one block from Barr's Bar. "I told you the fat man was battin' for both teams, didn't I?" "Yup," Mickey said. Mickey was a large role of a man whose vocabulary was as short as the stubby little fingers that stuck out of the mass of flesh he called a hand like the extremities of a balloon animal. Rory hated being stuck in the car next to him but together they'd been given the assignment of following Brendan Regan by Sean Reid. According to Reid, Regan had been asking far too many questions over the past week and Reid wanted to know who he was talking to. Five minutes earlier, they'd watched as another member of the Revenge's crew, the brooding Irishman called Declan, had left the bar. "I guess we solved Reid's little mystery. We should be rollin' up on 'em and doing some damage. I hate these sit and do nothing jobs. I'm not a damn private eye. Watch this. Find this. This is crap," Rory complained. He was a man of action, or at least he fancied himself a man of action.
