"Absolutely!"
Jason Veasey responded with a sharp, echoing snap of his fingers. Almost instantly, a young waiter who had been lingering near the service entrance hurried into the center of the billiard hall. The boy was trembling, his eyes darting nervously between the two rival gangs.
"Look at him, Mr. Ransom," Jason said, a predatory glint in his eyes. "This kid doesn't belong to my crew. He’s just a part-timer trying to earn a paycheck. Neutral enough for you?"
Ransom studied the waiter for a long moment, then glanced toward Allen Morgan. Allen remained leaning against a nearby pillar, seemingly more interested in the lingering spice of his lamb skewers than the life-and-death drama unfolding before him. Ransom took a deep, steadying breath. He knew that tonight was his audition. He
