by Ken Bruen
“Gold rush?”
“Yes, ’tis an old wing of me family. ’Tis a rich wing, too.”
“I thought the gold rush was California?”
“Aye, ’tis true, but they weren’t the smartest people, me relatives.”
The guy squinted at Max again, as if studying him, then smiled and said, “Well, welcome to America, Mr. Mullan. It’s a pleasure to have you back.”
Driving away slowly Max could barely contain himself. He was back on his home turf – America, the land of freedom. Yeah, okay, there was a downside, he had to be fucking Irish, maybe for the rest of his life, but hey, he could pull it off. After all, how hard could it be to be Irish? He already liked to drink and kill people, he’d be a goddamn natural.
Humming that anthem Angela used to sing, The Soldier’s Song, he drove at a nice easy pace till he hit the open road. Then, thinking he better start getting used to his new identity, he shouted “Bollix to ye all!” and fucking floored it.
FB2 document info
Document ID: fbd-a1bfe9-9f04-a14b-038c-8cee-e45c-0a432f
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 08.10.2011
Created using: Fiction Book Designer, FictionBook Editor Release 2.6 software
Document authors :
About
This file was generated by Lord KiRon's FB2EPUB converter version 1.1.5.0.
(This book might contain copyrighted material, author of the converter bears no responsibility for it's usage)
Этот файл создан при помощи конвертера FB2EPUB версии 1.1.5.0 написанного Lord KiRon.
(Эта книга может содержать материал который защищен авторским правом, автор конвертера не несет ответственности за его использование)
http://www.fb2epub.net
https://code.google.com/p/fb2epub/
