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“Janey,” you say, and she looks at you sharply, picking up the careful calm in your voice. “It's time to go.”
Her eyes flick up, then. Your partner in crime's as sharp as a knife and twice as deadly, and you see her taking into account the way that sunset has plunged the room into shadowy darkness, the distant footsteps rattling down the stairs, the way some people are already getting up to leave. “If that'll be all, Mister Slick?” she says, sweetly.
“Don't miss the drop,” he growls, turning to grab his fedora and jacket, same as the two of you.
“We never miss the drop,” you reply, putting your arm around Jane's shoulders and hustling her around the bar. Roxy slips you a wink as you pass her, and pushes a little button that seals the passageway up behind you after you leave. “What can I get you boys?” you hear her voice say behind you, muffled.
(For her birthday last month, Jake gave Roxy a tommy gun. You hope she won't have to use it, but you know if anyone can take care of herself, it's her. That girl always lands on her feet.)
The passageway that you both find yourself in is lit only by a single naked bulb swinging from the rough-hewn ceiling, and moisture limns the walls. Jane hustles ahead of you, leading the way.
“So, boss,” you say, “What's the plan?”
“Get to Caliborn's, get the supply, make the drop,” she says tersely.
“I really don't think we should—”
“Caliborn's a sleaze, but his sister's moonshine is top-notch,” Jane interrupts you. “Slick wants the best, and he'll be able to sniff it out if we pass off anything less.”
“All right,” you say, touching her arm, “But after this, we find another supplier.”
She stops and turns to you. Your faces are both hidden by shadow, so she reaches up a hand, fearlessly touches the creases of your frown. “All right,” she says at last. “If that's what you recommend.”
“It is,” you say.
“Let's get topside,” she tells you, and the stress in your shoulders eases.
“If we're going to get another supplier,” she says as she climbs the ladder to the street, “I expect that you'll find us one.”
“Better than Caliborn,” you say. “Promise.”
She offers you a hand to help you get up onto the street, and you chuckle as you take it. Your car is waiting just a few steps away from you both. “To HQ?” you say.
“Let's step on it,” she says, giving you a friendly little punch on the shoulder, and you do.