Cut and Run 3 - Fish and Chips

movement over Bianchi’s shoulder caught his attention. He glanced up to see two men in ill-fitted suits walking along the bar toward them. The men were totally focused on him and Bianchi, and Zane’s instincts went on alert. He’d have to take a risk.
    “Listen to me. Armen is dead.”
    Bianchi’s eyes instantly went comically wide — it was about as natural a reaction as Zane had ever seen. “Dead?” he asked, aghast.
    “Yes. Poisoned,” Zane said, nodding to the bottle.
    Bianchi yanked his hand back from it like it had burned him. “But… but we ordered our drinks from the bar, all of us!” Then Bianchi flinched. “What about my Norina?” he said urgently, sliding off the bar stool and standing. “She had drinks as well!”
    Zane took his arm to keep him from hurrying off. “To your right, do you know those men?”
    “Men? What men? What do I care about men? My Norina!” Bianchi babbled. It was pretty damn clear to Zane that the man wasn’t involved in any poisoning.
    “Del is with her. Lorenzo ,” Zane said, trying to hold the man’s attention as the two men drew closer. To Zane’s eye, they looked like some kind of law enforcement. “The men behind you.”
    Bianchi glanced over his shoulder and shook his head. “No. No, I don’t know.”
    Zane gripped Bianchi’s arm to hold him in place. “Stand up,” he ordered.
    Bianchi glanced at him, looking wild around the eyes, but he obeyed just as the two men stopped in front of them. Their smiles weren’t particularly pleasant looking.
    “Signor Bianchi?” the blue suit asked with an obvious Italian accent.
    Bianchi cleared his throat nervously and glanced to Zane, who nodded slightly. “Si, sono il signor Bianchi.”
    “Deve venire con noi,” the blue suit said flatly.
    “Cosa? Perchè? Chi siete?” Bianchi asked. Zane wasn’t sure what they were saying, but he knew what con noi was: come with us.
    “Ci sarà tempo dopo per le domande. Ora venga con noi,” the beige suit said as he slid his hand into his jacket.
    Zane didn’t hesitate. He surged forward to grab the man’s arm and elbowed him in the throat, sending the man to the floor choking and gasping, too focused on trying to breathe to attempt to draw a weapon. The blue suit grabbed Bianchi, but a harsh kick to the back of the suit’s knee and a left cross shoved him off as people around them gasped and jerked away from their tables, starting a commotion. Zane pulled at Bianchi’s arm to get him moving away from the bar as the beige suit started to climb to his feet.
    “That’s what you get for hanging me over a railing, you dick!” Ty called out in triumph over the chaos of the gawking diners.
    Hearing that crow, Zane located his partner in the bustling crowd and steered Bianchi in that direction. Bianchi hurried to Norina — Ty was dragging her along with him — and swept her into a hug with a spate of worried Italian. Zane turned to look around them. The milling patrons blocked the way to the door, and he cast around for another exit they could use before the threat or the crew closed in.
    “Kitchen,” he said to Ty as he pulled at Bianchi again. “Time to go before the suits get froggy again.”
    “Froggy?” Bianchi said blankly.
    “Just go!” Zane urged as he pushed the man and his wife ahead of him.
    Ty wrapped an arm around Zane and hugged him excitedly. “You knocked that bastard on his ass,” he said gleefully. “God, that was great!”
    “What happened to your accent?” Norina demanded of him as she was shuffled along.
    “ That’s what you’re worried about right now?” Ty asked her incredulously.
    “Where’s our gun?” Zane asked.
    “You don’t have it?” Ty asked blankly, and Zane swore under his breath as shouts and angry screams from behind them signified that the men who must be Ty’s Dolce and Gabbana were in pursuit.
    They pushed through the double doors into the industrial kitchen, garnering odd looks from employees inside as they hurried through the walkways, dodging wait staff, trays, and carts of dirty dishes. They’d reached a service door in the back when Zane glanced back across the kitchen to see Dolce and Gabbana thump through the doors and run straight into a passing busboy. All three of them crashed to the floor in a comic display.
    Ty shouldered open the employee entrance and tumbled out into the corridor, only to put on the brakes and throw his arms out wide to prevent the rest of them from following. “Back,