“How are we going to lose the other two?” Roma called.
“Follow me,” Juliette said.
They pushed through the thickest part of the crowd and burst outdoors, into the hollow center of Great World. An opera show was in full swing here, but Juliette was busy searching for another inner entrance back into the building of Great World, frantically eyeing the external staircases that zigzagged from floor to floor. Juliette surged forward again and plowed through a family of five, then ran into a woman carrying a birdcage, wincing when the cage clattered to the floor and the bird gave a squawk of death.
“Juliette,” Roma chided from behind. “Watch it.”
“Hurry up,” Juliette snapped in response.
His carefulness was slowing him down. Juliette caught a flash of one pursuer coming through the mirror exhibit. The other collided with an exasperated love-letter scribe making for the exit.
“Where are we going?” Roma huffed.
Juliette pointed to the wide white stairs that loomed into view. “Up,” she said. “Quick, quick—no, Roma, duck!”
The moment they pulled up onto the stairs, elevating atop the crowd, the pursuers had clear shots at them. Bullets ricocheted through the open space, urging Juliette to take the steps three at a time.
“Juliette, I don’t like this!” Roma shouted. His footfalls were heavier than hers, taking four at a time to stay at her speed.
“This isn’t my idea of fun, either,” Juliette shouted in response, stumbling onto the second-floor landing and bursting back inside the central, circular building. “Keep up!”
This floor was occupied by people, not attractions: pimps and actors and barbers all offering their services to those who were searching.
“This way,” Juliette said, panting. She dashed past the startled row of earwax extractors and barged through two swinging doors. Roma followed suit.
“In here, in here.”
Juliette grabbed Roma’s sleeve, yanking him furiously into the racks of lace-hemmed robes.
“Are we…? Are we hiding?” Roma whispered.
“Only temporarily,” Juliette replied. “Squat.”
They squatted into the clothes, holding their breath. A second later the doors burst open and both remaining pursuers entered, heaving loudly into the quiet of the dressing room.
“Check that side,” one demanded of the other. British accent. “I’ll check over here. They couldn’t have gone far.”
Juliette watched the two men part, following their progress with their feet, waiting until the two pairs of shoes were a good distance separated.
“That one is yours,” Juliette whispered, pointing to the set of shoes coming closer and closer. “Kill him.”
Roma grabbed her wrist, the motion whip quick. “No,” he hissed quietly. “It’s two against two. They can be spared without harm.”
A metallic clang! rang through the room. One of the men had tipped over a clothing rack.
Juliette pulled her wrist away harshly, then nodded just so they weren’t wasting more time arguing. She scuttled forward. While the man she had assigned to Roma had stopped near him, likely scanning his surroundings, the other kept pacing, and to keep up with him, Juliette had no choice but to spring up from her squat and move fast, breaking into a run through the racks with her back hunched.
She didn’t know what gave it away. Perhaps her shoe had squeaked or perhaps her hand had brushed up against a hanger that clinked against metal, but suddenly the man stopped and whirled around, his gun firing into the racks, his bullet skimming past Juliette’s ear.
Another shot fired nearby. Juliette didn’t know if that had been the other man or Roma. She didn’t know what was happening except she was darting out from the racks and aiming at the man, needing to pinpoint her shot within the millisecond before he took aim again.
Her barrel smoked. Her bullet embedded into the man’s right shoulder, and his weapon dropped to the floor.
“Roma,” Juliette called, her eyes and aim still pinned on the Brit. “Did you get him?”
“Knocked him out cold,” Roma replied. He strolled closer, coming to a stop right behind Juliette while she pointed the gun forward.
“Who sent you?” she asked their last pursuer.