“Don’t forget the a*s slapping.”
“I’m sure that’ll excite him.”
“I’ll expect the wedding invitations by next spring.”
“Ha ha. Later.” I pocketed my phone, grabbed my little box of fries, and waved to the door. “I’ve got some files to study. Let me give you a ride back down the hill.”
Min nodded and headed for the door. Out of habit, I trotted past her so I could go out first.
A dirty white van squealed around the corner at Broadway and Pike, almost mowed over two pedestrians in the crosswalk, and sped toward us. The side door flew open, and two masked figures with guns leaned out.
“Get down!” I yelled, aware of people dining at sidewalk tables to either side of the door.
As I shoved Min back into the restaurant and dove behind a parallel-parked car, the two gunmen hanging out of the
