66. Smuglers

Keira's face scrunched up in a mix of confusion and annoyance. Nate must have told him about her. She shot him a glare, which he shrugged off innocently.

She finally asked, "And who might you be?"

"I'm sorry, where is my manner?" Still holding out a hand, the man with slicked-back hair and candy cigarette hanging between his lips chuckled lightly. "Giovanni Montana, but people like to call me Mr. Bones."

"Uhm… likewise?" Keira tentatively shook hands with him, hoping he wouldn't accidentally crush the bones in her hand, and quickly withdrew from him.

"Oh, no, please don't be mistaken. There's no need to be afraid of me, I don't hit women. They called me Bones not because I like to break bones, as you might have thought, but more about my, ugh… how do I say it, frequent rigid state of the certain organ on my lower half."

Realization kicked in. Keira's eyes bulged out in shocking disbelief. That was truly unexpected. And horrifying if she thought about it again. She'd never have guessed
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