Billy grabbed her by the wrist, tried to wrestle one of the guns away.
She grunted, dropped the pistol, but brought the other one around, pressed it into Billy?s soft belly and squeezed the trigger. Billy shook and jerked like a thousand volts were coursing through him. He coughed blood. His eyes rolled up, and the Terminator bitch stepped back and the great Billy Romano, feared among wiseguys, dropped into a big purple blob.
Vincent moaned, squeezed hot tears from the corners of his eyes, and tried to slither on his belly under the bed. He?d deluded himself that maybe she hadn?t noticed him yet. His whole body shook. When he felt the hand on his ankle, he pissed himself.
She pulled him out from under the bed, and he curled fetal, hands over his face, waiting for bullets to rip into his body.
?Look at me,? she said. ?Stop crying. Pay attention.?
Slowly, he turned his head, looked at her through the fingers still over his face. She didn?t look like the devil. Pretty. Sharp features. Straight back. Really good posture.
She pointed her machine pistol at his face. He flinched, closed his eyes again.
?I?m looking for Andrew Foley. Do you know where he is??
?Don?t kill me.?
?I asked you a question.?
Vincent was blubbering now, snot and tears rolling down his face, big sobs wracking his body. ?P-please. Please?I didn?t see anything?I??
She adjusted her aim from his face to his leg and shattered his kneecap with a single shot. Vincent screamed, throat raw and voice pitched high. Blood fountained dark and thick. A wave of nausea swept over Vincent. He rolled onto his side, spewed half-digested pasta and red wine. Drool and vomit trailed down his chin.
She pointed the pistol at his other leg. ?I did that to focus your attention, Vincent. I hope you won?t make me do it again.?
Vincent shook his head, stifled another moan. ?N-no.?
?One more time. Where can I find Andrew Foley??
It didn?t occur to Vincent for even a moment to lie. ?Oklahoma.?
She frowned. ?Narrow it down for me.?
?Near Tulsa, maybe. I don?t know for sure.? He winced. His knee throbbed. It felt somehow frozen and on fire at the same time. If he could just get out of this, just telling this fucking bitch what she wanted to know, he could get to a hospital. He didn?t dare let himself wonder if he?d ever walk right again. He just wanted a doctor and morphine.
?He?s got some kind of family there,? Vincent said. ?He left last night. Took the bus.?
?He was running? He knew I was coming for him??
Vincent gulped and nodded. ?He heard about Juice Luciano.?
She went quiet a moment, seemed to contemplate what Vincent had told her. She sighed, shook her head. Then she looked at Vincent again as if remembering he was still there.
She put two bullets in his head and walked out, her mind dwelling on her next move.
PART TWO
10
Andrew Foley had limped off the bus in Tulsa, stretched, found the one and only taxi parked in front of the bus station, took it to a Travel Lodge, where he?d taken a hot shower and gone to bed for five
