<div class="floatright">(https://i.imgur.com/BFEN7UV.jpg)</div>Ellie rolled her eyes. “<em>Sei fuori!</em>Put that away,<em>Cucciolo</em>,” she said. “We’re not the<em>polizia</em>. We don’t need to catch anyone at anything.”<br/><br/>The bodyguard trailing behind her, Ellie followed the Asian girl to the doorway she’d slipped into. The sound of a struggle came from inside the room, and Ellie hesitated at the door for a moment. She couldn’t let the bodyguard think her a coward, though. Let the boys think that, and she’d never be respected. Obeyed? Yes. Adored even. But not respected.<br/><br/>The scene in the room was utterly bizarre. The Asian girl had slammed a wastepaper basket over a man’s head, while another man looked like he was about to strike him with a baseball bat. The man the two were attacking was holding a pair of scissors. These were professional killers? It looked more like something out of The Sopranos.<br/><br/>“Your gun,” Ellie said to the bodyguard, not sure who, if anyone, she should help and which of them was the detective—though it stood to reason that the detective would be the one with the scissors. After all, wouldn’t some assailant, like a bookie’s muscle, show up with a bat, not office supplies?<br/>