For Blood or MoneyChapter 2 Eight Months Later
TROUBLE BLEW INTO MY OFFICE with the scent of lilacs on a spring breeze. A tear collected in the corner of my eye. I sneezed. Damn allergies. “Are you Dag Hamar?” she snapped, turning toward me. “Yes ma’am,” I responded, standing. There were still tears in my eyes. Floral scents really kill me. “I liked you better with long hair and a beard.” I wiped my eyes and looked at her—above the spike heels, tight skirt and ample bosom. The bubble burst. What she meant was she liked me better 30...