And I’m not quite ready to go down in a blaze of glory.
“Come on,” Zotov urges. “Come on out.”
I grit my teeth and move forward. “I’m going to hold onto my gun, thanks.”
Zotov nods. “I’d expect nothing less. If it makes you feel more comfortable, then go ahead. Though I’d caution you against using it.”
“Oh, you would? And why would I give a single f**k what you have to say?”
I’m hoping I can goad Zotov into revealing his hand. How many men are in this building? How many guns? Do I have any f*****g chance?
Giorgio spins around in his stool, sagging eyes fixed on me. “Because you killed my son and I’d be more than happy to watch you become target practice.”
“Easy,” Zotov warns the old man. “We’re getting to that.”
“My son isn’t an item on your goddamn agenda,” he snaps.
“No, I took
