“Oh shit,” Munk hissed as he quickly scooped the magnum off the club floor and back up into its holster. He clenched his jacket tight against his chest and broke through the crowd, onto the confined safety of the stairwell. He climbed the steps, catching up with his escort in time for the office door to swing open. Glancing over his shoulder as the door guard confirmed his escort, Munk spotted the patron he had tripped over pointing out the stairwell to another club bouncer. Munk’s head filled with psychic death for the squealer as he pressed closer to the door.

“Why did you try to sneak a gun, you fucking dumb-shit. You’re fucking up again and you can’t afford these mistakes.” He clamped his arm tighter against his chest and tried to look relaxed while trailing his escort into the office. “Think fast, Munk. You’re not dead yet.”