The man died without making a sound. Paul let him go and the man slumped to the

floor.

 

Puller stepped into the doorway, pointed his gun, and fired two rounds crisply

at the man who had his gun pointed at the bouncer’s head. The man caught both

rounds in the torso and fell forward, as dead as the other guy, only with a lot

more blood.

 

Rogers stared over at Puller and then turned to see the dead guy, his gun still

in hand.

 

Puller called out, “Any others?” Rogers shook his head. “Don’t think so. Four in

here and three outside.” Another shot rang out a moment later. Puller whipped

his gun in the direction. Rogers ducked down and looked that way too.

 

A man fell forward, the pistol still clenched in his hand.

 

Behind him was Suzanne Davis. She lowered the gun she’d just used to kill the

man.

 

Rogers slowly rose. “You owe me,” said Davis. “Yes, I do,” said Rogers. He

jerked a thumb at Puller. “I owe him too.” Puller kept his weapon out and looked

around at the others. They were young, drunk, puking, crying, some bawling. All

on the floor, the living shit scared out of all of them.