A flunk-o, work release job. Steve, in a mall parking lot, pushing midnight, rounding up shopping carts. His buggy buzzed the lot, hauling stray wagons. Steve torched a cig. His cell lit up.
"Swing by the apartment. I have something for you," Tony said.
"What's that?"
"It's a surprise."
"I have another half hour, I‘ll see you then."
"One more thing."
"What's that?"
"Thanks for everything."
"Don't mention it. What are fathers for?"
"I'll make it up to you."
"Forget it." Steve hung up, tossing his cig. He turned. A car barreling right for him. The car swerved sharply, right towards Steve. The black DTS. The DTS slid, fishtailing in a stop. A pair of nickel-plated barrels popped out the passenger windows. Silencers screwed in. Ten feet from Steve, the party started.
Dom and Max squeezed. Steve lifted and launched backward.
Wasted before he slammed cement. Moose punched the gas. The staff car steamed off, slanting a clear lot.
They bee-lined for Mermaids. A handful of patrons scattered the club. In breezed the killers, straight for the boss's cave. Max tossed a duffle bag on Big Dave's desk.
"What's this?" the crime boss asked.
"We're square with Tony Scram," said Max.