Duck Shultz nervously drummed the steering wheel, as he slammed the shifter into third. His V8 Roadster crested the hill and screamed down the other side.

He hated these backwoods Vermont roads.

He much preferred the city. Riding shotgun with his Tommy gun while his goons made the beer deliveries. But this account was a big one. She didn't like late delivery. This account could get... Cranky. He couldn't trust the driving to his underlings up here. Duck handled deliveries to Wynridge Tavern personally.