Instant Read

"Bad, bad hombre. You've been such a bad, bad hombre Nigel. Do you hear me Nigel?" Miguel asked the dying man has he levelled the weapon- his trusty Browning .45- pointed at the man's glistening scalp. Nigel- the dying man- moaned in pain. His mouth was foaming and blood was dripping from a large cut that traced from the side of his head to his neck. He was hanging, suspended by chains wound around his ankles and another set of chains around his wrists. His left eye was badly swollen where he had taken a beating. Miguel made a tick, tick sound with his tongue and teeth. He was shaking his head from side to side like a father regretful of his child's actions. He was smartly dressed in a white tuxedo, black shirt, black tie, black glistening shoes. He had long silver hair that reached to the middle of his back. He looked to be in his mid-forties. When he talked, he had a strange mix of Italian, Jewish and Spanish accents. He wore a rather large, gangsta s...