The fat guy waved the gun at me. “Come away from the door, lug, we want the dame. Come on… I ain’t goin’ to ask twice.”
I yelled: “Mardi, lock the door quick… trouble’s arrived.”
Gus sprang towards me with a curse. He came at me from the side so that his body didn’t get in the line of the fat guy’s gun. I wedged myself against the door and let him come.
The fat guy said: “Get him away… if he starts anything, I’ll drill him.”
Gus gripped my arm and tried to swing me from the door. I was too heavy for him and just for a second he came off balance. I jerked my arm a little, and he fell forward, right in the line of fire. I clutched him to me like he was my long-lost brother and lammed a couple of short ones to his belly. My heel thudded against the door and I yelled again: “Lock up, quick.”
The two punches I had shot into Gus held him for a second and then he caught me with a swinger on the jaw. It was a nice punch and it sent me over. I took him with me and we went down in a heap on the floor.
The fat guy came forward and rammed the barrel of his rod into my neck. “Take it easy,” he said softly, “this gun don’t make much noise.”
The cold barrel digging into me cooled me off quick. I let go of Gus, who scrambled to his feet. The fat guy said: “I don’t want to rub you out, but I’ll do it all right if you ask for it.”
I met his eyes. This guy meant everything he said.
“I’ll be good,” I said.