Lie for a living...5 liters...
"Lucan didn’t cough, or wheeze, or waver in the least. His hand was steady and his finger found the trigger deftly. A face that was only moments ago wracked with sickness and unease, cleared with new found purpose as Lucan tested his voice and found it lacking."
"Lucan ran a bloated tongue over his teeth and found the spit he needed."
“Pete!”
"The name, spoken by Lucan, sounded suddenly like an eternal curse."
"Pete turned, dropping the pack he had been busy packing. “Oh, what is this? You going to shoot me with an empty gun, boss? I tell you what, if you’re strong enough to put on a show for your little lover there, then put on a show for us and stand up and walk out of this shit hole.”
"Pete pointed a finger at Garrett, “Here’s the thing though, he stays here.”
"Lucan kept the gun leveled at Pete’s head, never wavering as he spoke clearly and plainly. The change in demeanor and the steel he heard in the big man’s voice then was a lesson that Garrett would never forget. “You only know this gun is empty because I told you it was. You only ever knew when to eat or wipe you ass because I told you to. Thing is, I lie, Pete, I lie with every breath I take. You willing to play five card with me now?”
"To his credit, Pete never wavered either, he kept still but he never showed the fear that kept the hair on his arms sticking up. “I’m getting out of here, boss, right now! That’s all I know.”
“Damn right you are.” That’s all Lucan said before he pulled the trigger. The blast of the .357 forced Garrett’s eyes to close, the sound tore through his head and had him pressing his feeble hands into his ears, too little, too late. By the time he regained his senses and looked up he only noticed the aftermath. Pete was laid out on the ground between the two cells, face down, little bits of brain and skull were sprayed out across the ceiling and the far wall by the gaol door."
