His face was reddened by the cold wind.

“You look like hell, DeLuca,” Miller said.

“He was not alone,” I said, wiping a smear of blood from my forehead.

“Leo is in a car nearby.”

“We already have him,” Miller said.

“We picked him up two blocks down.”

“He was sitting in an idling Cadillac with a loaded shotgun.”

I leaned against the counter, my chest heaving.

The adrenaline was starting to fade, leaving me cold and empty.

“Is it over?” I asked.

“For tonight,” Miller said.

“But we need to move you now.”

“The rest of his crew will know something is wrong by morning.”

I looked down at the broken glass on the floor.

A small pool of my own blood was mixing with the melting snow.

“Let me get my boots,” I said.

Miller nodded to one of his agents.

“Get his things,” Miller said. “Only what he needs.”

The agent went into the hallway and returned with my leather boots and my heavy coat.

I pulled the boots on, my hands trembling as I tied the laces.