Page 30 of Princess's Revenge

“It does indeed,” I pat her on the thigh for an excuse to touch her, “let’s go. Follow my lead and let me do the talking.”

She nods.

As we both get out of the car, I wonder if I should have brought her along. I was more focused on my reward than her safety.Oh well…we’re here now.

When we’re a few feet from the saloon doors, I stop Andrea and say, “We don’t know each other, Okay? You can be my backup. Stay close but not too close.”

She winks, “Got it.”

I push through the doors and the rank smell of sweat, grease, tobacco and cheap booze assaults my senses. I look at Andrea and see her cringe before she tries to act normal again.

There’s a smattering of unoccupied, square, four-seater tables, a pool table and a juke box. The bar counter is an old ship’s hull. It’s lined with blue-collar workers. I scan them all and spot the guy I’m looking for all the way at the end on the right—near a fire door that has no alarm.Perfect.

These guys are all relaxing after a long day of busting their asses, no one pays us any mind.

I signal Andrea to follow and walk the length of the bar counter. I point to the vacant stool to the left of the guy we’re here for and she takes it.

The guy—Fish, is what they call him—lifts his ballcap and looks Andrea up and down. I take the stool on the right of him while he does. He doesn’t even know I exist.

I say, “Fish?”

He turns to me. His eyes grow wide as recognition sets in. I don’t know him myself, but I guess he knows me. He turns back to Andrea.

I see her eyes dart to me. He knows. He slips off his stool—likely to make a quick exit—and I grab his arm, “I just want to talk to you, Fish.”

It all happens in seconds…

When Fish pushes me back with both hands, Andrea shouts, “Hey,” and takes his beer bottle by the stem, uses it like a sap and smashes it over the back of his head.

Fish is stunned, but when he turns to defend himself, I get him in a rear choke hold and drag him backwards toward the fire exit.

When I push through the door, the alarm sounds—Fuck!

When Andrea comes through, she pushes the door closed. I throw Fish against it.

He puts his hands up in panic when he sees my Beretta pointed between his eyes. “I won’t tell anybody, man. I swear, I won’t tell!”

“Tell anyone what?” I have to yell over the sound of the ringing.

“About her,” his eyes dart to Andrea.

She grabs his shirt collar with both hands and yells, “WHAT ABOUT ME?”

I yank her away and put the gun to Fish’s head, “TALK!”

“The last Lupertazzi!”

Fuck.Not only does he know, but there’s a room full of witnesses inside and the firetrucks and police are probably on their way.

Andrea yells at me, “We have to go!”

“I’m thinking!” The Maserati is a two-seater. People are probably filing out the front, they’ll see us putting him in thetrunk. I need to question him and find out who he’s told. How the fuck do we get him out of here in five seconds?FUCK!

“Just fucking shoot him!” Andrea shouts impatiently.

I don’t think, I put the gun to chest.POP! POP! POP!Three in the heart. I hurl the gun with all my might over the bay. When I turn back, Fish is slumped against the door—deader than disco.

It’s easier killing people when you don’t know them.

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