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and you haven't really hurt us." |
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"I intend to, though," the man said, sounding angry. "I always meant to kill you." |
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Mike's eyes closed for a moment, and the shaking of his head looked almost sympathetic. "Why, Lowell?" he asked. |
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The man gasped, his hand holding the gun beginning to shake. "You know?" |
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Lowell removed the tight-fitting black mask from his face. He looked old and scared to Abby, who remained still. |
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"I helped you start Arlen's Kitchens, but you treated me like a trained seal. 'Order this, Lowell.' 'Use this recipe.' 'Open this bank account and close this one.' 'Go fix the grill.' But did you ever ask for my advice? Listen when I gave it?" Holding the gun in his right hand, he awkwardly used the left to pull his glasses from a pocket and put them on. |
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"I'm sorry, Lowell. I never realized" |
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"And then when I finally got my big opportunity, you came back from the desert too soon. Another few weeks and my gourmet idea would have taken off." |
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"Of course it would, Lowell." Mike's voice sounded soothing. |
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"Don't patronize me!" The gun hand jerked, and Abby gasped despite herself. Surely he wasn't about to shoot Mike. |
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He turned toward her, grimacing to let his cheeks push his glasses up on his nose. "Oh, |
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