“No!” It was a raw yell; he slapped his hands flat on the door. “Shut up, Robby, just shut up. Do you want to get your ass killed?”

“No, but-”

“There’s nothing we can do about it!” he snapped and whirled on her. “Dammit, do you think I like it? Do you?”

Sol wouldn’t have gone far, she knew it. Maybe he’d only taken her to a corner of the warehouse, maybe he was doing it there, slamming his fist into her over and over, breaking bones, tearing, destroying. Jesus, Jesus, suddenly Dublin was back, thick around her, thick enough to taste and gag.

She couldn’t just stand here, not again, never again. She couldn’t.

She started for the door. Jim intercepted her and wrapped her in a tight bruising bearhug. Close up, the pain in his eyes looked like shame.

“What if it’s me next?” she yelled, right in his face. “Are you going to stand there and let it happen? Are you that goddamn scared?”

He didn’t answer her. He didn’t have to. She stepped back from him, went into the bedroom. In the middle dresser drawer, under his socks, she found the snub-nosed .38 he kept for emergencies, and slipped it in the waistband of her blue jeans, under her sweatshirt.

Jim was a dark shadow behind her.

“They’ll kill you,” he said, voice like broken glass. “Jesus, kid, please don’t do this.”

She didn’t even bother to tell him why she had to.

It was just ending in the warehouse, meaty thuds, wet sounds that echoed hollow in the dark. Sol’s grunt of satisfaction sounded orgasmic. Robby stepped out into shadows, scared and shaking, and pressed her back to the rough concrete wall that hid Jim’s apartment. Jim hadn’t followed her out. As she stood, petrified, the light from the door shrank and folded in on itself and disappeared with a soft metal sound. The lock whispered closed.

“I guess we understand each other now,” Sol said from somewhere across the room; his voice was uneven and breathless. “Don’t we, you fucking cunt? Don’t we?”

Velvet moaned. Robby felt a sharp stab of relief, or regret.

Footsteps grated on concrete and broken glass. Her eyes weren’t adjusted to the darkness yet, but she sensed him moving toward her and fumbled for the gun. Mary, Mother of God, let me have the guts to do it, please don’t let it happen again, please.

He kept going, his passage a breeze in the dark, and she saw the outside door stretch into a rectangle of dim dying sunlight. For a second Sol was silhouetted, adjusting his collar, checking the shine on his shoes.