The Millionaires (16 page)

Gallo looks back at DeSanctis, who gives him one of those imperceptible nods I usually save only for my brother. I know the
look of that one. Storm clouds brewing. There’s more riding on this than just some lost cash.

Without a word, Gallo pulls back the hammer of his gun.

“C’mon, Jim,” Shep laughs. “The joke’s over…”

But as we all quickly realize, Gallo isn’t laughing. He tightens his grip, and his finger slithers across the trigger. “I’m
waiting, Oliver.”

Frozen in place, I feel like someone’s standing on my chest. I can barely breathe. If I stay quiet, he pulls the trigger.
But like Shep said… if I give up the cash, we lose our only chit. Big deal—it’s better than gambling with our lives.

“Tell him!” Charlie shouts.

“
Don’t say it!
” Shep warns. Turning back to Gallo, he adds, “Can we stop with this already? I mean, you’ve already caught us—what else are
you hoping to—”

The two men stand face-to-face, and Gallo lets out the slightest of smirks.

Shep’s expression falls. He’s paste white. Like he just saw a ghost. Or a thief. “You want the money for yourself, don’t you?”
he stutters.

Gallo doesn’t answer. He just steadies his aim.

“Don’t do it!” I plead. “I’ll tell you where it is!”

“So the big dollars were yours?” Shep asks. “Who brought you in? Lapidus? Quincy?”

The answer never comes. Gallo licks his lips. “Goodbye, Shep.”

“Jimmy, please…” Shep begs as his voice cracks and shatters. “You d-d-d…” He can’t get the words out. As big as he is, his
whole body’s shaking. His eyes flood with tears. “Not in the h-hea…”

“
No…!
”Charlie cries.

Gallo doesn’t flinch. He just pulls the trigger.

P
lease don’t…!”
I yell.

It’s too late. The shot hisses like a dart from a blowgun. Then another. And another. All three explode in Shep’s chest, sending
him crashing back into the concrete wall. He grabs at the wounds, but the blood’s already everywhere. It covers his hands
and bubbles up from his mouth. He tries to breathe, but all that comes out is an empty, wet wheeze. Still, he’s on his feet…
staring back at Gallo… at all of us… with a dead man’s gray eyes. They’re wide with fear—like a child who knows he’s hurt,
but hasn’t yet decided to cry. He staggers, trying to take a step forward… struggling to keep his… c’mon, Shep… you can make
it…

Gallo raises his gun again, but quickly realizes he doesn’t have to.

Unable to hold his own weight, Shep’s legs buckle, and like a giant oak, the big man falls forward, straight for the creaky
wooden slats in the floor. But just as he hits—as the thud thunders through the tunnel—the wood shakes, but somehow, it holds.

“
Shep!
”Charlie screams, racing out and sliding knees-first next to Shep’s facedown body. “Are you okay? Please, buddy… please be
okay!” Squinting through a rush of tears, Charlie nudges the back of Shep’s shoulder, searching for a reaction. Nothing—not
even a twitch. “C’mon, Shep… I know you’re there—please be there!” Ignoring the puddle of blood that’s seeping out below Shep,
Charlie shoves his hands under Shep’s shoulder and waist, and tries to flip him on his back.

“Charlie, don’t touch him!” I shout.

“
Both of you—nobody move!
” Gallo barks.

Charlie abruptly lets go, and Shep’s body sinks face-first, back to the ground. The pool of blood is already seeping between
the grooves in the wood planks. I look away and gag from the tinge of pre-vomit in my throat. That’s when I spot the hypodermic
needle right next to Shep’s head. Charlie spots it too. His eyes are wide. He sees it as a break; I see it as a dumb way to
get himself killed.

Don’t do it,
I warn with a glance.

Charlie doesn’t care. Right there, a surge of adrenaline turns anguish to blood lust. He goes to grab it and…

“I said,
don’t move!
” Gallo explodes, rushing in behind him. There’s a quiet click and Charlie looks over his shoulder. Gallo’s got his gun aimed
at my brother’s back. DeSanctis, who’s still blocking the door, has his pointed at me.

“Charlie, listen to him!” I plead, my voice cracking.

“Finally, someone with some sense,” Gallo says, turning his gun toward me. He steps in close and shoves the barrel into my
cheek. “Now I’m going to ask you again, Oliver. You know what we’re after. Just tell us where it is.”

Unable to move, I stare over Gallo’s shoulder. Behind him, Charlie’s still down on his knees, primed to explode. Scouring
the room, he searches for another out. But no matter where he looks, he still sees Shep. So do I—which is why I’m not letting
it happen again.

“Don’t be stupid, Oliver,” Gallo warns. “Give it up and you can walk out of here.”

“Don’t tell him squat!” Charlie shouts. “You give him a dime and he’ll leave us lying here with Shep.”

“Shut your mouth!” Gallo snaps, pointing his gun at Charlie.

Stiffening with fear, I’m completely paralyzed. Charlie slaps me awake with a look.
Don’t say it,
he warns.
Don’t give him anything.
The problem is, no matter how good my poker face is, Gallo already knows my weakness.

With a ferret’s grin and his gun still pointed at Charlie, Gallo pulls back the hammer and studies my response. “How much
is he worth to you, Oliver?”

“Please don’t…!” I beg, barely able to get the words out.

Leaving nothing to chance, DeSanctis moves in behind me, his gun digging into the back of my neck.

Behind Charlie, Gallo flicks his finger against the trigger. The gun’s pointed at the back of Charlie’s head, but Gallo’s
watching me. Still kneeling next to Shep’s body, Charlie cranes his neck around and fights to get my attention. My eyes glaze
and a hot spasm scratches up from my throat. We both know the outcome. No matter what we give Gallo, he’s not letting us leave.
Not after everything we’ve seen. Still, Charlie searches my face, looking for something… anything… to get out of here. It
doesn’t come.

Stubborn to his last breath, he turns away and stares back at Shep’s broken body. But it’s not until I notice Shep’s blood
seeping down through the wood in the floor that I actually see it—our one way out. Charlie has his back to me, but I spot
the sudden pitch in his shoulders. He sees it too. Hunched over as if the pressure’s too much, Charlie kneels in close to
Shep’s body… and carefully wedges his fingers around the edges of the loose wood plank that’s in the floor.

“You know how to save him,” Gallo warns, still focused on me. “Just tell us where the money is.” From where Gallo’s standing
behind Charlie, he can’t see a thing. Three feet away, I see it all. As quickly as I can, I angle my body so DeSanctis can’t
get a clear view.

“Please don’t hurt him,” I beg. “The information’s all yours—I just need to get it from the bank—I don’t have it on me.”

It’s all I can do. Keep trying to stall.

Pretending to brace himself for the gunshot, Charlie curls down even tighter—and curls his fingers around the sides of the
wood. It wobbles slightly, but not enough. There’s still a nail barely holding it in place. Focused on the thin gaps between
the planks, Charlie wedges his fingers in as deep as they’ll go. If he digs any deeper, his knuckles’ll bleed. He doesn’t
care. He needs the leverage. With one final shove, his skin is rubbed raw. The tendons in his forearm twitch, and I can tell
his fingers are wrapping around the bottom edges of the plank. Almost there—keep going, bro. He pulls as hard as he can without
revealing himself. It quickly starts coming loose.

“Oliver, you’re too smart not to’ve memorized it,” Gallo warns as he takes aim at my brother. “Do better.”

Behind Gallo, Charlie turns just enough to shoot me a look.
Don’t say it,
he tells me.
The wood’s about to give way.

“Three seconds,” Gallo says. “After that, you sweep up his brains yourself. One…”

Just give me another second, Ollie. That’s all I need.

“Two…”

Just one more second
…

Gallo’s finger slips around the trigger. “Thr—”

“Please—don’t do it! If you want it, it’s in an account in An—”

Ollie, move!
Charlie motions with nothing but a glance. There’s a sharp crack as the wood comes loose.

Following the sound, Gallo turns away from me and spins toward my brother. He looks at the ground, but Charlie’s already on
his feet, swinging the wood plank like a baseball bat. The flat side catches Gallo square in the jaw, sending a mouthful of
spit flying across the room. The sound alone is worth it… a sickeningly sweet crack that knocks him—and his gun—straight to
the floor.

Before I even realize what’s happening, I feel a sharp tug on the back of my shirt. DeSanctis tosses me backwards. He’s trained
to go after the threat. As I crash to the concrete, he turns to Charlie and aims his pistol for the killshot. Now my brother’s
in the black hole of the barrel. Instinctively, he holds up the plank as if it’s a shield. Realizing what’s happening, I scramble
to my feet. I don’t have a chance. Without hesitation, DeSanctis pulls the trigger. The shot explodes with an ear-splitting
boom.

The wood thunders violently and something whizzes directly over Charlie’s head. By the time he opens his eyes, the plank flies
from his hands, cleaved in half by the gunshot. As the wood thunks against the ground, his palms are burning, stinging with
dozens of splinters from the force of the impact. He looks up at DeSanctis, who’s already readjusted his aim. Straight at
him.

“
Don’t!
” I yell, plowing into DeSanctis from behind. The gun jerks, and a shot goes off—tearing at the wall on my right and sending
a storm cloud of loose concrete crumbling into the corner. The impact keeps DeSanctis off-balance enough for me to jump on
his back and grab him in a quick choke-hold. Within seconds, though, training overtakes surprise. DeSanctis whips his head
back, cracking me in the nose. The pain is ferocious. I don’t let go.

“I’ll kill you, you bastard!” DeSanctis shouts as I continue to hold on. Reaching backwards and clawing over his shoulder,
DeSanctis still tries to get at me. That leaves his gut wide-open. It’s all the distraction Charlie needs. Picking up the
broken wood plank, he rushes forward… plants his feet… and swings away. As the plank collides with DeSanctis’s stomach, he
doubles over, and I swear his feet leave the ground. I fly off the bucking bull and tumble to the concrete—but DeSanctis clearly
took the worst of it.

“You okay?” Charlie asks, offering me a hand.

I nod repeatedly, still unable to catch my breath.

Behind Charlie, there’s a sharp scraping noise. He spins around and spots Gallo on the floor, crawling to reach his gun.

Scrambling next to him, Charlie scoops up Gallo’s gun and stuffs it in the back of his pants.

“Charlie…!” I call out.

“Y-You’re both dead,” Gallo whispers, coughing up blood.

“You sure about that?” Charlie asks, winding up for another crack of the bat. I’ve never seen him like this. He lifts the
plank over his head like a woodchopper and—

“Don’t!” I shout, grabbing him by his shoulder. DeSanctis is already climbing to his feet. We’re way out of our league. “C’mon—let’s
go!”

Charlie drops the wood, and we fly for the heavy metal door in the corner. Once I hear his shoes clicking behind me, I don’t
look back. All I want is out. With a quick shove, I’m through the door and across the catwalk. Just as Charlie’s about to
follow, he takes one last scan of the room. I can hear it from here. Gallo’s already up and about, coughing uncontrollably.
DeSanctis isn’t far behind.

“We got trouble,” Charlie calls out.

In full panic, I leave the construction trailers behind and leap out of the rabbithole, into the food court. Back in the hallway,
we hear the metal door crash against the wall. They’re faster than we thought.

“Check the trailers!” Gallo’s voice bellows. That takes care of DeSanctis.

Right there, I make a sharp left and race back the way we originally came.

“Wrong way!” Charlie shouts.

“Are you…?”

“Trust me,” he calls out, heading to the right.

I pause, but it’s a simple choice. We both know where we spent our Friday nights.

Checking to make sure I’m behind him, Charlie takes off up the hallway, and old instincts flood back into place. At the far
end of the hall, he leaps for the nearby escalator and scrambles up the moving steps two at a time. Behind him, my shoes clack
against the metal grooves. “They still behind us?” he asks.

“Just get us out of here,” I say, refusing to look.

At the top of the escalator, which dead-ends into a cluster of magazine shops and newsstands, the only clear path veers to
the left, back to the Main Concourse. Charlie keeps running straight—toward the beige service door in the corner.

“It looks locked,” I say.

“It’s not,” he insists. “Or at least, it never used to be.”

Praying that things don’t change, I watch him plow into the door. It swings open and leads into an industrial beige hallway.
Charlie’s strides get longer. He’s back on home turf. And I’m more lost than ever. Refusing to fall behind, I squeeze my fists
tighter and pick up speed. My nails dig deep into the palms of my hands.