Just at that moment, Rafael surged to his feet, hauling the Streetline Special from his boot and pointing it at Caco’s back. Within a heartbeat, half a dozen gun barrels were pointed back at him. The sawed-off shotgun was out from under the ganger’s jacket, the bartender balanced his HK227 in one hand while still holding his dripping ladle in the other, and even the blonde had pulled a slim little Walther pistol from a pocket—although the gods only knew where she concealed it, since her clothing was skin-tight.