The Family Business

“Not if I can help it. I haven’t even had any of that tasty dick yet.” I stood up from my bar stool. “C’mon, I’ll get you outta here.” I pulled Martino along. Usually, I relished being the center of attention, but at a time like this, I wished my hair weren’t dyed quite so blond. It made me too easy to spot in here.

I faked a sudden move to my right, somewhat shielding Martino in an effort to play along with his notion. Both of Alejandro’s men bit on my action, waking from their dazed stupor and flinching to attention. They were trained too well, neither one overcommitting as they maintained their spacing to keep me pinned in their sights.

Rather than waiting for me to make another move, Martino panicked and darted out from behind me, heading toward the back of the club. With his distraction, they pivoted toward the potential new threat to them. When this happened, the one to my left suddenly fell over, clutching his chest. His surprised partner reacted to the unseen threat the only way he knew how, by whipping out his gun. This sent the whole club into a panic and stampeding for the front door. I now had a wave of bodies momentarily between me and Alejandro’s remaining man.

I ran out the back door a few seconds behind Martino. I found him scrambling down the alley, and I screamed for him to wait the fuck up. When he saw it was me, he gladly halted for a moment to catch his breath.

“What happened back there? I thought you were right behind me.” He stood panting, hunched over with his hands on his knees.

“I ... I held them off. Got the drop on one of ’em,” I said, sucking wind and lying my ass off. I didn’t know what happened to the one that keeled over, but I wasn’t complaining. “But the other one is still coming.”

“Thank you.” He stood erect and loosened his collar. “If they found me, then that means everything’s blown up. I gotta get back to my hotel, grab my shit, and get back to New York.”

“Well, they’ve seen me helping you, so I’m leaving if you’re leaving!” I said, doing my best damsel in distress for his benefit. All that was missing was for me to bat some false eyelashes.

“C’mon,” he said.

When we turned to resume our escape, two shots landed near us. I yelped, feeling flakes of brick separate from the wall and ricochet across my cheek, leaving bloody scratches on my pretty face. It was the other one of Alejandro’s men, storming down the alley in pursuit. He was still aiming at us, and I was sure he did not intend to miss again.

“Run!” I yelled.

There was another shot, and then Martino grunted in pain. I looked behind me to see that he’d been shot in the lower back. He reached out his arm toward me.

“Go... let’s go. I’ll be all right,” he urged, grimacing in pain.

With me yanking on his arm, Martino got up to a pretty good pace.

We ran as fast as we could toward the end of the alley, quickly cutting across a parking lot and then into a neighborhood bustling with pedestrian traffic. I hoped we could get lost, at least temporarily, in the crowd. We dipped into another alleyway so Martino could catch his breath.

“Do you have a gun?” I asked, figuring it was somewhere on him based on his job description.

“No. Stupid on my part,” Martino replied as he reached toward his back to check how bad it was. “It’s back at the room. No one knew I was going to be here. I didn’t think I’d need it. Just trying to enjoy a little downtime, like I said.”

His trembling hand came out with a good bit of blood from his wound.

“We need to get off the streets. Is your hotel nearby?” I had to get this guy to a safe place and get him talking before he passed out from blood loss.

Carl Weber with Eric Pete's books