The security guard was right behind him now and I wanted so badly for this guy’s head to explode, a bullet to slapped into the back of his skull, push through the brain and burst out of his eye socket that I could feel his blood splatter on my face already. I wanted him dead because of what he represented to me; the men that kidnapped and murdered my son, slashed my second ex wife’s face and made me into the three A.M shell sitting by this terminal, writing this fucking book. I wanted him dead because he wanted me dead and maybe if I got really lucky he’d squeeze off a shot that would land high and we’d both go together?!
‘Now...Mr Spencer...put the gun down.’ I said it slowly and clearly and he did just as I asked. He dropped the gun and his life was his own again.
More tomorrow if you're really unlucky.