Before she can finish the question, the driver of the car walks into the diner, takes off his sunglasses, and scans the room.
When his eyes land on me, he flashes a nasty grin and pulls out his gun.
I raise my own weapon and squeeze off a few bullets into the ceiling.
No one in this room deserves to be shot, so I want to give them as much time as possible to get out of here.
But they’ll have to move fast.
“Run!” Gennady yells, knocking an old man’s steak and eggs off the counter as he slides over the greasy surface and drops down on the serving side for cover.
A few patrons sprint out the side door. A few more dash into the kitchen where the waitress has disappeared. I hear screams peppering the air. Wails. Whimpers.
The attackers duck for cover behind a half-wall just beside the do
