Strip Search by William Bernhardt

By William Bernhardt

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What is he, some kind of retard or-" I flattened him. One punch, on the nose, down and out. Yeah, I know, I shouldn't have done it. Someone will report me to IA, and they'll throw it in my face the next time I make my periodic pathetic application for reinstatement. But honestly. A girl can only put up with so much. It was your typical Vegas casino, if there is such a thing, an exquisite blend of tony, trendy, and tacky. No windows, no clocks, nothing to remind gamblers of the outside world, everything designed to encourage them to settle in and play, play, play.

After all those years living off the streets, moving from one hardscrabble job to the next, Tucker knew what he was and what he wasn't. He might have many failings. But he was not a thief. The very suggestion made his blood boil. He wrapped a rubber cord around Amir's wrists, then secured him to the grill. " Amir hesitated. no. " "That is not true. I love my little darlings. " Amir squirmed, trying to keep his stomach off the super-heated stainless steel. "Is. She's makin' it with Wilfred, too.

Amir pleaded, his hands pinned behind his back and his body pressed against the stainless steel plating of the fast-food grill. "Why are you doing this to me? " "I know you. I know who you are. " "Please do not hurt me, sir. " Amir cried, but it was no use. Thunderbolts of pain radiated up his arms and through his shoulder blades. "Is it my skin color? I am not from Iraq, if that is what you are thinking. Or Iran, or Saudi Arabia. " "I don't care about that," Tucker said, pulling the man's arms even tighter.

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