Cut and Run 3 - Fish and Chips

back!” he cried, right before a gunshot pinged off the top of the metal doorway. Norina let out a shrill yelp as she fell back against Zane, and he pulled her back into the kitchen. Ty and Bianchi were with them as Zane turned them down an aisle running along the back of the large kitchen, keeping the bulk of the cabinets, stoves, and prep area between them and Dolce and Gabbana. They didn’t have much time, though. Whoever was out in the hall would be behind them, and fast.
    Zane almost ran past the elevator but caught the edge of the door to stop himself. He motioned to Bianchi and Norina. “Move!” he ordered, pushing them when they stopped just inside the threshold.
    “There is not room!” Bianchi huffed as he tried to wedge himself between two large laundry carts. He pulled Norina as close as he could, barely getting her inside. Zane was able to edge just inside the wall next to the controls, but the rest of the service elevator was full.
    Zane glanced out at Ty. “Get in here,” he urged as he reached up to grab the strap that would close the metal gate and heavy doors.
    Ty reached up, grabbed the solid metal bar above the gate, and swung himself up over the service cart to drop into one of the laundry trolleys with an oomph. As soon as he let go of the bar, Zane had the gate shut and slammed his fist against the button, sending the elevator creaking slowly upward.
    For a long minute, the only sound was the metal gears grinding as the elevator worked, and Zane craned his neck to look back at Ty. He had to snort; Ty had his feet kicked out, crossed at the ankles, and his hands laced casually behind his head as he lounged on top of the mess of laundry.
    “You are not Corbin and Del Porter,” Bianchi said with an obvious certainty.
    “Turns out that’s good for you, so don’t knock it,” Zane said shortly as he looked up through the grating above them into the dark elevator shaft. It wasn’t likely any of their pursuers would know where the elevator went, so he and Ty would have a legitimate chance to get the Bianchis to something resembling safety before tracking down ship’s security.
    “You are not my good friend Del?” Norina said in a small voice. “But you tango so well!”
    “Yes, you tango so well,” Zane parroted, looking back at his partner. “How is that, by the way?”
    “Don’t start with me, Garrett,” Ty mumbled. He turned a sincerely apologetic look on Norina. “It’s a long story. I’m sorry.”
    She bit her lip, obviously upset, and then turned in what little room she had and whacked him in the head with her designer purse. Zane laughed aloud, drawing a glare from his partner and a sniff from Norina.
    The elevator creaked to a stop, and the lurch caused Ty to flail and lose his balance. He fell between the piles of dirty linens he’d been perched atop. As he cussed and struggled to climb out of the laundry bin, the doors cranked open noisily.
    Zane grinned at Ty for a moment before carefully peering out of the elevator, checking both sides. The hallway was empty, and he didn’t hear any running footsteps. “Looks clear. Let’s go. We need to find security and get you two somewhere safe.”
    “But what is going on?” Norina started demanding as they hurried down the passageway to a set of fire doors.
    “A little help back here!” Ty called after them just as a crash sounded from within the elevator and Ty crawled out from between the doors, covered in towels and pillowcases. “I’m okay,” he muttered as he struggled to his feet and jogged to catch up with them. When he reached them, Norina rewarded him with another smack, just for good measure.
    “Who are those men?” she demanded of them all.
    “Two of them are Italian police, my gioia ,” Bianchi said apologetically.
    “Oh, Lorenzo, how did they find us?” Norina asked.
    “I’m betting on Armen,” Zane said as they reached the doors. “Not that we can ask, now, considering.”
    “Why not?” Norina asked. She looked around at the three men who stood silently around her, and she paled.
    Zane shook his head and opened one of the doors carefully. It opened into one of the smaller lobbies off the gaily decorated promenade. He didn’t see anyone but passengers, and he gestured for the others to follow him out. “Stay close,” he warned them. “We don’t know where those guys will pop up, and we have no idea who the second set of shooters is.”
    “I would rather deal with Dolce and Gabbana