Chapter Three Daryl turned the truck into the parking lot behind the Raddison, putting on the brakes the moment he spotted the massive crowd that had gathered behind the hotel. “Fuck me, man,” he snarled, unable to get even a rough head count in the dimming evening light. “How the hell did all these people know we were coming here,” he asked, spotting a hand-made ‘FUCK ME, TIMMY!’ sign held over one young woman’s head. He looked over at Jimmy, and the urge to punch the young dolt nearly overwhelmed him.
For your security, we need to re-authenticate you.
Click the link we sent to , or click here to log in.