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“Oh, have you?”

“It’s not like it’s the first time anybody’s ordered a hit there!” Juicy shook his head. “That’s why I thought it was so stupid. Like, remaking movies. Why remake Twister? Why? A musical reinterpretation is something different entirely, like with the classic film, Mean Girls?—”

“Hey, Juicy! Focus!” Trev snapped. “What do you mean you thought it was stupid? You never said anything!”

“You didn’t ask me.”

“Juicy!”

“The restaurant. Il Grifone.” Juicy kept waddling ahead, stubborn as ever. “When I was a pilot, I whacked somebody there.”

“You mean when you were a hitman?”

“No, I was a pilot!”

Trev skidded to stop when he saw the restaurant at the end of the block. There were dozens of police cars, a fire truck, and countless other cars crowded around it. Men in uniform and in suits were running around like ants as barriers were put up to block off a growing crowd.

“Shit.” Trev grabbed Juicy’s shoulder and tried to pull him back. “Yeah, no. See all that? See that shit? We want to get very, very far away from that shit!”

“But I told you!” Juicy was annoyed. “That’s where we need to be. With the trees. Two trees, three trees, and?—”

“Yes, yes! I’ve heard all about the fucking trees!” Trev hissed, pulling harder on Juicy’s arm. “The trees aren’t here, Juicy! Those are back in fucking Perry City at the stupid park!”

“No! They’re over there! At the restaurant! That’s where we need to?—”

“I am going to kick the shit out of your fucking dog?—”

Juicy gasped. “You wouldn’t dare!”

“Juicy—”

“Trev?” Juicy’s gaze drifted over Trev’s shoulder.

“What? I’m—oh shit!” Trev yelped when big hands grabbed him and the cool barrel of a gun jammed into his temple. He held up his hands, gritting his teeth. “Fuck me.”

“Not on your life, you fuckin’ whore.” It was Emil.

There were two big suited men on either side of him.

Great.

Fabulous.

“What the fuck?” Trev stared. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Cleaning up the leftovers.” Emil smirked. “We got Cold, we got Cold’s little bitch brother, and his…” He stared at Juicy. “This old bitch.”

“Old? Who are you calling old?” Juicy raged, swatting feebly at Emil, but one of the suited men grabbed him. “I’ll snap your damn neck, you stupid fucks!”

Trev tightened his fists, keeping track of where the knife was in his sleeve. “Just let him go. He doesn’t have anything to do with this.”

“Oh, no, no.” Emil smiled wickedly. “He’s just in time to see the big finale. Now that Cold is dead, I am going to take pleasure in killing his brother too.” He jerked his head. “We need to get off the street. Now.”

Emil grabbed Trev by his collar, dragging him down the sidewalk toward an unfortunately familiar SUV. Trev struggled, but there wasn’t much he could do with a gun pressed against his head. He was tempted to scream for help since there were so many cops nearby.

One of them had to notice, right?

At least one person had to come around the corner and see what was happening.