“But, put together, they filled me with a sinking coolness that made me grip Blaze’s waist like she was about to fall off the rooftop’s low wall. And then we ran. The sounds were these: One. Screeching tires. Two. A door slam. Three. A smashed window. Four. “DECLAN, I’M GONNA GET YOU, YOU MOTHERFUCKER!” I know that voice. And that Brooklyn Italian accent... Five: Screeching tires again, followed by rapidly disappearing laughter and catcalls—like old-time cowboys and Indians firing guns ahead of ...a backdrop of cacti and a setting sun. And, finally, six: The sound that brought about the most bone-crunching dread of all: That whoosh and KABOOM of a hungry fire. Below us. -2- I didn’t think. I grabbed Blaze, opened the roof door, and pushed her in. She protested, a little, but my hands were too strong. I was working on impulse. Instinct. Save her no matter what, Deck. Because Dino Moretti came for you, son. And if she dies because of you, then you’re one sick motherfucker. I was amazed at the lack of flames in the building.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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