“Do it, Jade. Now.” I point the gun at her head, then lower my arm just a tad so it’s a straight line from the muzzle to her son’s head. “Put Baxter down.”

Up to now she’s been holding it together fairly well, swallowing her tears for her kids’ sakes, but two fat ones spill from her eyes now, dragging a shiny line down each cheek. She swipes her face before the kids can see, then pulls herself together as best she can. She whispers in her son’s ear and holds him close, kissing him twice on the temple.

And then slowly, carefully, she pushes his bar stool away from the marble and slides him onto the floor.

Two seconds later, he peers around the end of the bar.

I slip the gun into my waistband at the small of my back and crouch down, putting us eye to masked eye. “Hey, buddy.”

Any other kid would be bawling right now, but not Baxter. He just stands there, fingers of one hand wrapped around his sister’s chair, going to town on the thumb of his other hand. Two round blue eyes watch me from behind a fist, but they don’t look scared. They look curious.

I tap him square in the belly. “I meant what I told your mother just now, you know. I’m not going to hurt you. In fact, I want the two of us to be friends, and you know what friends do? They help each other out. I’m going to help you, and then you’re going to help me. How do you think that sounds?”

Nothing. Not even a blink.

But he’s not freaking out, either, so I take it as a sign.

“Okay, so here’s the deal. If you go to the front door and tell me who’s down on the street, then I promise not to tell anyone you have a marshmallow sticking out of your ear.”

He frowns, and his thumb jerks out of his mouth with a loud pop. “I don’t got a marshmallow in my ear.”

“Yes, you do. Here. Hold still and I’ll get it for you.” I reach over his head and shake the thing out of my sleeve, catching it in a palm, pinching it between two gloved fingers, showing it to him with a flourish. I’m not the best magician, but I’m good enough to fool a six-year-old.

“That came outta my ear?” He sticks a finger in there and jiggles it around.

“It sure did. Next time your mama accuses you of not listening, tell her you couldn’t ’cause you had a marshmallow stuck in your ear.”

He gives me a knowing nod. “She does say that a lot.”