Hurt to the point of mindlessness, Niccoldi turned slowly and woozily and caught another blow – this one from the bourbon bottle – to the face. This time, he went down.
Floorbound and twitching in agony, Niccoldi gurgled blood. He offered a soundless prayer. He thought of his wife and daughter in happier times. He wordlessly apologized for getting Amy – and himself – into this mess.
The attacker knelt down in front of him. A gloved hand held an opened razor. Lifting his gaze against the pain, Niccoldi looked up and spotted a face he thought he recognized just before the shiny blade came down swiftly upon him.
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