The engine gave a death rattle, it shuddered through his bones like a train. There was silence between them as they sat in the dark, listening, waiting. Troy held his breath. In his ears, the pounding of blood beat out every second as it crawled by. It was a full minute before Dom breathed an oath into the shadows. Troy sighed.

"Nice drivin'."

"Man, that was too close!" Dom was using his wife voice, "Too damn close. I mean, if we hadn't jumped those lights..."

Whatever conclusion he'd arrived at had left him speechless, instead, he gave a huff of laughter that didn't sound at all amused. It fell to Troy to spoon-feed him some reassurance, "But we did. No-one saw us. No-one knows."

He climbed out of the van, even the softest thud from the door made him wince. Though the shadows were thick, his eyes had adjusted, and through the gloom he made out a trash can and a shelf full of paint pots. There were tools pegged to the wall and a lawnmower lying in a pool of grease. It was a typical garage, and typically small, too - Dom had trouble circling the van to meet him. There was a jingle of keys and the door to the house swung open without a sound. Inside, the silence became oppressive, and Dom's voice cut through it like a knife.

"You got three days, Troy. Three days. When Bonnie gets back, this shit better be gone, or it's my ass! And you best believe I'll be taking you down with me!"

"Where'd she go again?" Troy stopped to inspect a knife block. It looked expensive.

"She's staying with Tanya's family in Cleaveland."

"Tanya... is she the hot one?"

"Troy, it's time to start taking this seriously. Call Macy, and tell her-"

"Hey, I'll call Macy in my own fuckin' time," Troy snapped, his words edged like Bonnie's designer kitchenware, "I don't need you to tell me when I should call fuckin' Macy."

Domino said nothing at first. He stood framed in the window as if he were carved from ice, an ebon tower of a man awash in moonlight blue. Troy didn't need to be reminded of just how intimidating he could be, but he knew that, in the end, Dom would back down. He knew it like he knew the darkest corners of his mind. Dom was his man through-and-through - he wasn't bought or borrowed or strong-armed to his side - it was pure loyalty. If Troy trusted him enough to drive him unscathed through oncoming traffic then he could trust him enough to help him through this mess.

"Look," Dom began, the first familiar note of the backpedal, "I trust you, and you know I got your back, but this is red hot. And now that Tyler's caught the scent he won't let up. The sooner this is off our hands, the better I'll sleep at night."

Inwardly, Troy was glad to know it wasn't just him who'd been shaken up by the ordeal. The screech of tires had pierced him like ice shards. By the time he'd arrived at the window, there were six men crossing the basketball court at speed. If it hadn't been for Shifty and Dutch, who'd been shooting hoops at the time and, by some miracle, had had the presence of mind to retreat in the direction of the wrong apartment block, then... There was no point in dwelling on it. While Tyler's thugs were raiding the wrong apartments, Troy and Dom both made for the basement, and brought the van to Dom's cousin's place. One of the cars tried to follow them but, unlike Dom, the driver wasn't blessed with flawless prediction and was left behind at the first set of lights. Dom was right, though, it had been too close.

Outwardly, Troy shrugged, "Man, I got it. I'm going to call Macy tomorrow, arrange a drop-off, and it's going to be smooth as silk. Alright? I'll even send Bonnie a fuckin' fruit basket."

Dom's teeth flashed like a scimitar - it was an anxious smile, but it was a start. They agreed to spend the night in Bonnie's place, with Dom in the spare room and Troy on the couch. It was safer to lie low until morning. Before turning in, Dom gave Dutch a call: he and shifty were unharmed and there was no damage done to their home. Apparently, Tyler's men took off the moment they were told about the van, and they were pissed. Everything worked out, thought Troy, although he didn't dare say it aloud.

Dom went to bed looking haggard. For a while, Troy listened to him pacing the floor above; there was mumbling too, and he knew that it was to Floss he was grovelling. He didn't envy Dom: Floss had quite a bark for such a small pup, and some bite to back it up, too. However, when own his phone started to buzz on the coffee table, his first thoughts were of a certain blonde bombshell from New Jersey. But it was not Chantelle. He stared at the screen for a moment, while the phone chattered in his grasp. He took a breath.

"Tyler."

There was silence, and then a breath that rattled through smiling teeth, "Troy, my man... 'Sup."

"Heard your boys paid me a visit. Sorry I wasn't home."

"That's okay. That's okay," Tyler drew out the last syllables of his words, like a child trying them out for the first time, "Maybe I'll call again sometime. Give us a chance to catch up."

"Oh, you don't gotta do that."

"Nonsense," he rasped, Troy heard the suck and crackle of a cigarette, "What kinda responsible businessman would I be if I didn't check up on my investments from time to time?"

"Are you sayin' you don't trust me?"

"Now, Troy, I trust you implicitly. I know you know the rules, and I know you know not go about any business under my roof without my knowledge. Isn't that so?"

"Just as you say it." Troy slipped off the sofa, and made his way to the window. Outside, the street was a suburban haven of unnatural stillness, with clean streets and perfect lawns.

"And as one of my most trusted friends, I have a job for you," Troy waited for it, his muscles set like concrete, "There's a certain Manny Morales who has found himself in arrears with his loan repayments. I want you to slap him with a late fee."

"I ain't one of your muscles, Tyler."

"Excuse me, Mr. Dempsey, but you are what I say you are. You are my eyes to see and my lips to speak; you are my hand that feeds and my dick that fucks. Go fuck Manny Morales and we'll see about rescheduling my next unscheduled visit."

There was a click and Tyler was gone. For a moment, Troy stood staring, the phone droned its lonely drone in his hand, his face a pale spectre in the dark. When he looked up, he saw Dom in the doorway, watching him. His voice rumbled with uncertainty, "What is it? Troy, who was that?"

"That was Tyler. We're through the looking glass now, Dom. I'm calling Macy."