“Please,” she said.
“All right,” I said. “You be good, and when we get home, I’ll let you have your phone back.”
She let out a breath. “Thanks,” she said.
I nodded once. “Stay here, keep the engine running. I’ll be back soon.”
I shut the door and walked off. I crossed the street and angled toward the building, just as Luca picked up his pace. Simon, Alex, and Davide came toward us from the right side of the block, walking fast. Simon wore dark jeans and a black shirt, while Alex and Davide both had on jeans and black hooded sweatshirts.
I joined their group as we headed toward Luca, all of us converging on the house. Nobody spoke, but I could taste the tension in the air.
Luca reached up and banged on the door. I waited, hung in suspension, staring ahead with my hand tight on the gun. Luca knocked again, three hard bangs. He stood off to one side as Davide stepped forward. He pulled up his sweatshirt and took out a sawed-off shotgun, the end cut down so that it was shorter and easier to hide. He glanced at me and I gave him a slight nod.
He pressed the gun between the doorknob and the frame and pulled the trigger.
The shotgun bucked in his hands and blasted the door. It leapt inward, wood splintering, but was caught on a deadbolt. I pushed Davide aside and brought my boot up, slamming it hard into the door, breaking more wood and sending more splinters flying into the room. The door blasted open, slamming against the far wall, and Luca barreled in first with his gun raised.
I followed and moved into a short, dark hallway. Just ahead, a guy with a shaved head stood shocked like he was coming to answer the knocks. He wore a gray polo shirt and baggy dark jeans. Luca slammed the butt of his gun into his head and knocked him sideways, his head slamming against the wall with a dull thud.
“Grab him,” I said. “Bring him in”
Luca grabbed the guy as Davide and Simon split off and took the staircase on the left. They moved fast and I heard Davide reload his shotgun with a loud clunk.
I pushed Luca and our new friend deeper into the house. We passed a galley kitchen, dark and covered with cigarette smoke. The walls were stained brown from nicotine and it smelled like old beer. The floor was covered in a thick gray shag carpet, and likely hadn’t been updated in thirty years or more.
Luca pushed the guy into the back room. A couch and a few chairs were set around a large flat screen TV. Three more guys were in there, one of them fat and sitting on the couch. He had an X-Box controller in his hands and he stared with his jaw hanging open as Luca shoved the hostage down to the floor. Blood spouted from a wound in the hostage’s head as he hit his knees and slumped forward, Luca’s gun against the back of his skull.
“On your fucking feet,” I shouted. “Get the fuck up. Get the fuck up now.” I kept my gun level as the fat guy dropped the gaming controller and threw his hands in the air. The other two were sitting on folding chairs on the far side of the room. One of them was skinny with a short haircut and a black t-shirt. He dropped to the floor, hands up on his head like we were cops. The other was tall and broad with mean eyes, and he didn’t move as fast as the others.
“You want to fucking die?” I said, crossing the room. The fat man’s eyes followed, but he didn’t move. “You want to fucking die, tough guy?”
The big man stared at me with a snarl.
“Come on, Liam,” the fat guy said. “Get down, man. They have Michael.”
“Fuck Michael,” Liam said and tilted his head. “Who the fuck are you?”
“My name is Steven,” I said and pressed the barrel of my gun against his forehead. “And I will kill you if you don’t get down on the ground.”
Liam glared at me with light blue eyes. His lip curled, his square jaw tense, his bulbous nose bent like he smelled something ugly. But he put his hands up and moved down to his knees.
I checked him first. I reached into his waistband and found a gun. I grabbed it, pulled it out, put it in my own waistband. I checked the skinny guy who was face down on the floor next and found nothing. The fat guy was last and as I approached, he nodded at the table in front of him.
“My piece is there,” he said.
I noticed a silver revolver next to a cigarette that was still burning in the ash tray. I picked it up and tossed it aside, letting it bump across the rug and come to a stop against the far wall. The fat guy flinched every time it hit the ground, and I guessed it was loaded.
I reached forward and checked the rest of him, and sure enough, he had nothing else.
“All right,” I said, holding my gun out. “Gentlemen. Let’s make this easy. Where are the drugs?”
The fat guy’s jaw dropped. “Drugs?” he asked.
“Don’t make this hard,” Luca said, gesturing at the bleeding man on the ground. “We’ll do unto you, too.”
The fat guy grimaced and stared at his bloody friend.
“Don’t you fucking tell,” Liam said from the floor. “Don’t you open your mouth, Percy.”
“Why the fuck not?” Percy asked. “They got the drop on us. What’s the point?”
“You die for your Club,” Liam said.
“No need for dying,” I said. “No need for hurting, either. Just say where the drugs are.”
Percy stared at me, then his eyes moved over to the kitchen. They lingered then came back to mine.
I bowed my head. “Well done, Percy.” I walked past him, over to Liam, and
