Bleed Red by Don Money

“As I mentioned when you signed the contract for editorial services, my expertise comes with a price,” Vachele Quinn said to the younger man.

The imposing view of the city from the ninety-seventh floor splayed out behind the man at the desk furthered the trepidation felt by Cameron Yates. “I thought you were kidding. You can’t be serious?”

“Oh, I am quite serious,” Vachele replied. The editor slid the empty ink well and syringe across to Cameron. “I find writers make fewer mistakes when they have to give a little of themselves to help me mark the corrections I find.”