“All right! All right.”
The fancy guy broke up the pack. The men hovered above Keitaro’s motionless body.
The buff guy had to throw one last ruthless kick as he spit something in Spanish.
TJ picked up his phone.
“9-1-1. What’s your emergency?”
“Yeah, I need an ambulance. My boss just got jumped. Yeah. The Roquefort. The restaurant. Hurry, he’s hurt bad. I don’t even know if he’s alive. They beat the shit out of him. Wait.”
The buff guy and the gunman lifted Keitaro up by the arms.
“They’re taking him,” TJ said.
The thugs carried Keitaro across the street to the Cadillac and shoved him into the backseat. The fancy guy gathered items from the alley before hurrying to the driver’s seat. He started up the engine. The headlights flashed on TJ, and he froze.
“The license plates? Oh shit. They see me. They fucking see me,” TJ said.
The Cadillac squealed out into the street. As it passed by TJ’s car, the back window rolled down and glistening metal appeared out of the shadows. It fired two shots in succession.
The first shattered TJ’s window.
TJ took cover leaning into the passenger’s seat. The second bullet fired into the car, striking the passenger’s door. When the Cadillac passed, TJ stuck his head out his broken window and caught the license plate number.