Chapter 7: Under Cover

I took her down with me.

We hit the floor under the table, and the second shot took the wine bottle off the tablecloth.

Glass rained on my back.

People were screaming, and a waiter dropped a tray of oysters.

"Stay down," I said into Suzette's hair.

"I'm down!"

"Don't move."

"Jonas, you're bleeding."

"Don't move."

There were five shots, and then tires screamed.

I came up on one knee and looked through the empty window frame.

The black SUV was already swinging out into traffic.

I started to stand, and Suzette caught my arm with both hands.

"Let them go," she said.

"They shot at you."

"They shot at us. And you can't catch a car on foot."

I looked at her face, white and fierce in the broken light.

Then I sat back on the floor, and I pulled her against my chest, and I held her until my own heart stopped pounding.

Four of Amos's men came through the front door moments later.

They'd been outside the whole time, and I hadn't known it.

"Mr. Wetherill," said the first one. "The car is ready."

"Where are we going?"

"Your grandfather's safehouse. He wants you off the street tonight."

It was an apartment above a bakery in South Philly, with three rooms and a fire escape.

The kitchen was stocked by someone who had never cooked.

Suzette sat on the bathroom counter while I peeled my shirt off.

A long cut ran across my left shoulder where the window glass had caught me.

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