Page 42 of The Woman on the Jury

Not really.

But I knew those Timbs and that leather jacket.

And I remembered what the other guard had said about him.

He had one brown eye and one brown and green eye.

This was Venezio.

If it weren’t for the eyes, I could never have known.

Because his entire face was a bloody mess.

As was his t-shirt.

“Venezio,” I gasped, rushing forward, reaching for him, sensing he was having trouble just staying upright.

It was as I was slinging his arm over my shoulder that I realized there was something shiny in his other hand.

A gun.

There was a second where my stomach dropped before I realized that a gun in the hands of a guy who was on my side was a good thing.

“You gonna fucking make me dinner? Drop the skillet,” Venezio said in a voice that sounded like gravel.

The skillet fell from my hand as I half-carried him with me toward the front.

“Details,” he demanded, voice rough, his breath catching, like me moving him along with me was causing a lot of pain.

“They’re in the alley. I think,” I said. “There was just one in my apartment,” I told him.

“Knocked him out,” Venezio said.

It wasn’t a question, but I answered anyway.

“Yes. Come on,” I said, pushing the door open with my shoulder, and pulling him through with me. “We need to get a cab, or—“

“Car is on the street,” he said, face twisting in pain as I pulled him out onto the sidewalk.

“Where?” I asked, trying to look around. Cars were everywhere. They always were.

“Corner,” Venezio ground out. “Black one,” he added.

It wasn’t the same one as Miko drove, but there was something similar to it. Black, tinted, expensive, looking.

“Okay. Alright. Let’s go,” I said, pulling him with me, finding myself a lot stronger with the hope of escape just a few yards away.

My muscles screamed and my breath grew labored as I pulled a man easily twice my size, and only partially holding up his own weight, to the car.

“Can’t drive,” he said, shaking his head. “Leg’s fucked up,” he added.

“Okay. Alright,” I said, reaching for the passenger door handle as I got there, and yanking it open.

And it was right about as I shifted him toward the opening that there were shouts.

Followed by footsteps.

“Get the fuck in,” Venezio barked at me.

---