The Throat Tattoo doesn’t have time to answer and Ove doesn’t wait for him either.
Instead he grabs the young man by his collar and pulls him up so hard that his body tumbles clumsily out of the car.
He’s a muscular sort, easily weighing in at two hundred pounds, but Ove holds his collar in an immovable steel grip.
Evidently, Throat Tattoo is so surprised by the strength in the old man’s grip that it doesn’t occur to him to put up any resistance.
Fury burns in Ove’s eyes as he presses the probably thirty-five-years-younger man so hard against the side of the SUV that the bodywork creaks.
He places the tip of his index finger in the middle of the shaved head
and positions his eyes so close to Throat Tattoo’s face that they feel each other’s breath.
If you sound that horn one more time, it’ll be the LAST thing you do on this earth. Got it?”
Throat Tattoo allows his eyes to divert quickly towards his equally muscular friend inside the car,
and then at the growing line of other cars behind the SUV.
No one is making the slightest move to come to his assistance. No one beeps. No one moves.
Everyone seems to be thinking the same thing:
전체재생
다음페이지
문장검색