“Why you do it, Little Man?”
“Do what?”
Ray Ray’s eyes wandered to the shotgun that lay between them. “You gonna hit me with that?”
“That’s your gun, Ray Ray. You gave ’em to us.”
“And you were doing my business?”
Marcus should have said, Yes, of course I was. Maybe even begged for his life. Instead, he kept his eyes on the tops of his boss’s boots.
“I couldn’t trust you after the Korean,” Ray Ray said. “You know that?”
Marcus let his mind chill. Ray Ray’s mouth moved, and more words came out.
“That’s why I had Jace follow you.” Ray Ray touched Marcus at the shoulder and pointed. The boy didn’t bother to turn.
“My Little Man.” There was a ghetto smile in Ray’s voice now. Like the thing was done, and there was never any avoiding it anyway. “Could have made some cake with you.”
The boots creaked as Ray Ray stepped back. Marcus could feel each moment, one linking up with the next. Teeth catching, locking, and levering forward.
There was Jace, standing just behind. Tall, dark. Never a whisper in his walk. Forearms extending. One hand on the gun grip. The second coming across and covering it.
The gun itself. A single smooth pan up. Steady pressure on the trigger. Black hammer pulling back.
The boy, head bent, waiting.
He focused on a crooked line of dirt running through the cracked cobbles. Saw every particle. Each its own mountain, with contoured peaks and crumbling valleys. Worlds within worlds.
His head would be there. In a matter of moments. Seconds. Lifetimes. A great meteor from the heavens. Destroying the line of dirt. Destroying the world of dirt. Changing everything.
He saw his temple, fragile bone splintered. A mass of tissue and blood, mixing with the earth until it all ran dark.
He saw it all in the slipstream of his consciousness. His body somewhere else. Him looking down. Still alone in the street.
His breath grew calm. He counted off the last three exhales. Then the shot came. The boy felt it blow a hole in his ear and waited for the bang of stone against the side of his head. Instead, he heard a groan and thump in the dust. Marcus turned to see Jace, facedown in the spot the boy had reserved for himself. Fair enough. The boy turned back, just in time to see Ray Ray, hands up, gun dangling from his fingers. Beyond him was the white dude. Fucking white dude Cecil was supposed to kill. He was a step or two into the street, fat-barreled piece in his hand, features watery in the smoke and the heat. He fired twice more without saying a word. The first shot finished off Jace, who was still alive and reaching for his gat. The second caught a banger named Breeze, who had been invisible in a doorway to Marcus’s left. The white dude walked toward them, eyes fixed on Ray Ray, who laid his piece on the ground.
The white dude was saying something, but Marcus wasn’t hearing. He had the pump back in his hands. Ray Ray turned just as Marcus raised up. The white dude was moving faster, but not fast enough. Now it was Ray Ray counting exhales. But he wouldn’t get to three. Marcus unloaded into his boss’s chest. Left the face alone. It was just business.