A Review Of Frank Bill’s New Novel
“Hopefully, I never run out of ways to describe someone getting shot,” he says.
His knees cracked down onto the cold, hard concrete floor. Jarhead followed him with the still-warm barrel of the gun. Touched the rear of Dote’s skull. … Jarhead was restless and a bit worried. He hadn’t beat on a bag since the robbery. He needed to expand his lungs. Feel some flesh give.
