‘You know you’re gonna get murdered, don’t you, lady?’ said the guy with the bandanna. ‘There are six men inside, and when they’re done with your little crew, they’re gonna come gunning for you.’

She remained silent and stared, with pure loathing in her eyes.

‘Didn’t you fucking hear me, ya silly little tart? Holding a gun means you can only shoot one of us at once.’

Her top lip curled as her eyes narrowed. ‘And I bet you hope it ain’t you I shoot first, eh?’

The cocky one of the two sucked his teeth. ‘Go fuck yaself!’

‘So, six inside, yeah, and two out here? Well, I should by rights even things up a bit!’

The younger guy drew a startled breath. ‘Please, lady.’

‘Shut up, Gage!’ spat the bandanna man.

‘Peto, I’m sorry, but look. That gun ain’t a toy. She’ll shoot ya.’

‘Tell me who’s your boss because with a cocky, foolish mouth like yours, I know it ain’t you.’

Gage was now breathing heavily; beads of sweat on his forehead glistened in the moonlight, and his eyes remained transfixed on the gun.

She waited for an answer, but there was none. ‘Too afraid of him, are you? Well, he seems to me to be a right coward. I mean, using pathetic foot soldiers to do his dirty work because he’s too fucking chicken to meet me face-to-face. What’s that all about?’

In a high-pitched, animated tone, Peto lifted his chin. ‘Youse have no clue. Ya think you’re hard with a weapon, but you watch. He ain’t chicken. No way! He’ll run you out of town, hunt you down, and bury you! All of you!’

Zara stepped forward and pointed the gun directly at Gage, who was sweating profusely.

‘You, Gage, stand up against that wall and don’t fucking even think of running because I won’t threaten you, I’ll fucking blow your head off!’

He didn’t need to be told twice: he was flat against the wall in a second.

She paused and listened. Two shots, both fired from inside. She went another step closer. ‘You, Peto, have ten seconds to give me the name of your boss. One, two, three . . . ’ She cocked the gun. ‘Four, five . . . ’

‘Wait! All right, I don’t know his real name. They call him the Governor. I’ve never met him.’

‘Oh, yeah? So, how the fucking hell do you get paid, then?’

‘Jaguar pays me,’ he replied, now shitting a brick.

‘Where’s this Jaguar?’

Peto flicked his head, indicating that the gang leader called Jaguar was inside the restaurant.

‘Right, fucking move!’ She pointed to the side door of the restaurant. ‘You’re gonna point him out to me.’