Gin Palace 01 - The Poisoned Rose

revolver lunged out at me, the gun aimed at my head. I took a few steps back, out of blind reflex, and raised my hands. He took as many steps forward. He pulled the hammer back with his thumb. There was maybe six feet between us. I thought about moving, about what I’d been trained to do when faced with an assailant armed with a gun. But before I could do anything, another man came rushing in from the kitchen. He held a smaller revolver with a dark finish in his outstretched hand. It, too, was aimed directly at my head.
    He came in closer than the first one and pressed the muzzle against my temple. I knew by this that he was an amateur.
    “Don’t make a fucking move,” he said.
    The other one stepped toward a table near the door, reached down and switched on a lamp. He kept his eyes on me as he went, his gun raised and aimed at me.
    Above and below the lamp a circle of white light shone, but the rest of the room caught only the soft yellow light cast through the heavy lamp shade. The wraparound windows went dark then, the night beyond them now invisible. The windows became like mirrors, reflecting from three sides distorted images of everything inside that small room.
    The man by the lamp was looking at my face. He appeared puzzled, almost surprised. The barrel of his gun lowered, drifting down. Suddenly, he seemed preoccupied, troubled.
    The man directly beside me was a kid, maybe twenty, maybe less. He was still caught up in the excitement, still riding the commotion. His breathing was fast and shallow. He ordered me to hand over my flashlight. I let slip from my hand instead. It fell to the floor with a thud. He stooped down to pick it up.
    The man by the lamp had a shaved head and Fu Manchu beard. Dark tribal tattoos covered his forearms. He seemed concerned by the sight of me, as if he were uncertain just what my presence here meant.
    “I know you,” he muttered.
    The kid beside me had the flashlight in his left hand. He went to press the barrel of his revolver once again against my temple.
    “Is this the guy?” the kid asked.
    “No,” the bald man answered. “It’s someone else. It’s another guy.” He paused, then said to me, “How the hell did you find me? What the fuck do you want?”
    “I’m just looking for money.” I said. “That’s all.”
    “Bullshit,” the bald one said. “I’ve seen you before. You don’t remember me.”
    “I don’t want any trouble.” I held my hands up at shoulder level. “I didn’t take anything. Let me walk out of here now and you’ll never see me again.”
    “Let’s just fucking waste him and get out of here,” the kid said. His voice was increasing in pitch. He was getting wild with fear. “Let’s just take him out back and pop him.”
    The bald one was calmer. He looked at me curiously and said, “He sent you, didn’t he?”
    “Who?”
    “The brother. Her brother. He sent you, didn’t he?”
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Whose brother?”
    “Let’s just fucking pop him and go. They know where to find us, man. Let’s just take him out back and pop him.”
    “Are you working with someone else or alone? Was that you outside?”
    “What?”
    “We heard someone outside, coming through the woods.”
    “No, that wasn’t me, man.”
    “How did the bastard know where to find me?”
    “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
    “That rat bastard brother of hers. How did he know where I was?”
    “I was just looking for money.”
    “You’re no thief.”
    “Let’s just fucking pop him and get out of here,” the kid insisted. His knees were drawn together, as if he had to piss badly.
    “First I want some answers from our friend here,” the bald one said.
    “I’ve told you, I don’t know any brother.”
    The bald one lost his temper. “Bullshit! How did you find us?”
    The kid waved his hand suddenly to get his partner to look at him. We both did. He raised his index finger to his lips, then whispered, “There’s someone else. He’s out back. I can hear him moving around.”
    The bald one looked at me. But before anyone could say anything more a cracking sound came from outside, a hard, brittle snap that was followed immediately by the sound of a window shattering.
    My knees buckled and I dropped quickly to the floor. The kid beside me did the same, but he landed hard. The bald one—the one who looked puzzled by my presence—came down last.
    I expected more gunshots from outside but heard nothing