“Just my luck,” Vance had growled when the man fell, impaling himself on the knife in the process.
So the man ended up in a make-shift grave and Vance had a vehicle and was heading to the spot where the man had told him he met with Romano’s people to pick up his consignments. Getting that information out of him had been painful…for the man. In the end, before his aborted escape attempt, he’d revealed all that he knew. It was very little, but enough to get Vance started on his end of the planned exercise.
As he drove he ran the ball of his thumb over his mustache, which was now smaller and trimmer than it had been twenty-hours before. He was also clean-shaven other than that, and wearing clothes that had belonged to man, including a billed cap turned backwards just as his victim had worn it, something which he knew was de rigueurin this part of the country.