Coffee Drinkers Preferred

Page 262

Coffee Drinkers Preferred Page 262 of 307 "Why didn't you just tell me where she is earlier?" He kicked me again. This time harder. I rolled and staggered to my feet, backing away from him. The pain was so bad I believed that if he managed to kick me again, just kick me, that I would die. Or perhaps that death would be preferable to having my ribs rebroken in sets of three. "Did you kiss my wife with those lips, Nephi? If you did, I own those lips." He pulled out a knife in his left hand, his right still holding his gun. Steve had guessed that Dale would start cutting my fingers. He had been wrong. I didn't say anything. I think I had only believed that I had been in control of this situation. I never was. Dale had read me. He had dealt with worms before. There are some people who simply don't want to hurt others. Who can't. These were probably the ones that the cavemen ate. Or sold. There are some situations in which they are not terribly useful. Like this one. Sometimes it sucks being Nephi. But he hadn't shot me and I had put five feet between him and my broken ribs. Why hadn't he shot me? He needed me. He hadn't cut my lips off because he needed some words that I could say. And he didn't know something: I had been chased off the end of this dock many times.