“Thank God you’re okay!” He liberated a handful of Hannah’s clothing from one of Rina’s packages and wedged it between his jacket and shirt. Kissing her again before turning to the stragglers still gawking at Rina. “Do you fucking mind?”

Quickly, they dispersed, embarrassed by their own curiosity. Donatti pulled her closer, snaking his hand around her shoulder. “Let’s get a cab.”

It was clear to Rina that he was using her for support. She put her arm around his waist and hailed a cab, helping him in first. Then she got in beside him, handing him another handful of clothing. Donatti acknowledged the gesture with a nod, stuffing the clothes against his wound.

“I’ll pay you back—”

“Please.” She leaned over to the driver. “Where’s the nearest hospit—”

Donatti yanked her back in the seat, then gave the cabbie his home address. Rina was about to protest, but his eyes, reptilian and venomous, warned her off. Instead, she took out a red T-shirt and dabbed his wet forehead. He took the cloth from her and wiped his entire face. Then he sat back and closed his eyes, keeping his breathing as rhythmic and smooth as possible.

The ride seemed interminably long. Traffic was heavy and not a word was uttered between them. As they rode through the city, she noticed that he was inching farther and farther away from her until his head was plastered against the window. His bleeding seemed to have slowed. Or maybe he was just bleeding into the blob of clothing pressed against the wound.

Rina closed her own eyes.

Inevitably this too would end.

All things end.

But nowadays, the endings hadn’t been too good.

The coming of Mashiach? Better to have faith than to lose it.

Forty minutes later, the cab slowed as it pulled curbside. She opened her eyes, then reached into her purse. Donatti placed his hand over hers. With effort, he slipped his hand into his jacket, parting it just enough for Rina to see the gun. He pulled out his wallet, extracting from it two one-hundred-dollar bills. He leaned forward and snapped them in the driver’s face. When he spoke, his voice was as cold as a bullet.

“You take her to whatever address she gives you.”

“But—”

Donatti slapped a bloody hand over Rina’s mouth, then slowly brought it back to his side. “You take her to whatever address she gives you; then you forget you ever saw us. Do you know what I’m saying?”

“Yes, sir.” The man’s voice was a tremor of terror.

“You know who I am?”

“Yes, sir, I know.”

“Who?”

“That man with that older man, the one with the trial… with the fancy lawyer…” His head was bobbing like a buoy. “I know, I know.”

“It’s good you know who I am,” Donatti said. “Because now I know who you are. You’re Faroom Narzerian. I bet you have a family, right?”

The head bouncing up and down as if on a spring.