Page 192 of Bitter Poetry

He folds in slow motion, his gun goes off, and the bullet embeds in the ceiling with a sharp crack.

I shake my head, trying to clear the ringing.

Roman slams through the door to the coffee shop—I’m guessing shit was going down out the front, either that or he decided it was just too fucking far to leg it all the way around.

I put two bullets into the chest of the soldier still screaming on the floor.

Fuck my ears.

Carmela, sobbing and hysterical, flings herself at me.

“What the fuck is going on?!” Roman demands, out of breath.

I peel Carmela off and shove her behind me.

“Is that Mrs. Gallo?”

I guess I was too fucking slow—but also her cap was lost somewhere between her entering the coffee shop and now, and even in the clothes she’s wearing, she’s the kind of woman who stands out in a crowd.

“Did you call it in?”

“I was running around when the cops closed off the street…”

Carmela is still behind me. I can’t let him take her in.

I put my hand on Roman’s shoulder and get right up into his space. “She’s in shock, yeah? Pass me your cell phone, mine got busted.”

Roman is a good one. Under any other circumstances, I’d trust him to have my back. His wife is pregnant, and their baby is due any day.

“Jesus! You killed them both. No way we can keep this quiet. Cops are going to be crawling all over this place within minutes.”

He reaches into his pocket for his cell phone—I punch him in the throat. He makes a weak choking sound, and his eyes go wide with shock as he staggers back. While he’s still gasping for breath, I wrap my arm around his neck and choke him out.

“Sorry,” I say as I lower him to the floor.

Tony staggers through the busted doorway to the coffee shop holding a bloody rag in his hand. His eyes go from where I’m crouching over Roman, onto the two dead Russians, and finally to Carmela.

“Did he tell the boss?”

“I don’t know,” Tony says. “I don’t think so.”

“I need to get her out of here somewhere safe.” Fuck, I need to ditch these guns. “Hand me that towel.” He offers me the bloody one in his hand. “Not that one, the one hanging out your apron.” He hands it over. I take Roman’s gun and quickly wipe it over… and mine, then slip them into my pocket, along with the towel. “We’ve been compromised.”

“Okay.” Tony’s worried eyes shift from Carmela clinging to the back of my jacket to Roman on the floor. “If you go out the back and right, you’ll see the delivery bay for the supermarket. You should be able to cut through and out onto the street… What about Roman?”

“If he doesn’t wake up, tell the cops he’s a regular customer. Three men speaking with heavy Russian accents came in and started kicking off. I’ve got his cell and his gun. Nothing to point to him beyond a good citizen who tried to help you and got caught in the fray. Say the third guy shot his companions, choked Roman, and ran out the back.”

He nods.

Taking her hand in mine, I shove through the busted back door, and head into the alley.

CARMELA

He just choked Roman out, right before my eyes. The adrenaline drop leaves me shaking and mentally numb… But I’m pretty sure what he did to Roman, he did for me.

With a tight clasp on my hand he marches me out back of the coffee shop and into the alleyway. I can see flashing lights at the end where cop cars are pulling up, sirens blazing, along with a discordant clamor that might be entirely in my head—the shots went off close to me and my ears are still ringing.

He doesn’t stop or speak, just hustles me down the dusty alleyway toward the drone of running engines—the supermarket goods entrance that Tony just mentioned. He pulls one cell out and powers it down, then he switches to the other and does the same without stopping or slowing.