I rub my eyes to make sure that I'm not seeing things. Nope. He's still standing a few feet away with a gun pointed right at us. He's a tall, thin, mean old man, wearing jeans and a plaid shirt. He has gray steely eyes, which are open in a permanent squint, as if he's trying to figure out how to screw over everyone around him.

I hate him.

I try to push Ronin out of my way so I can confront Sullivan, but Ronin keeps me behind him with one strong arm.

"May I help ...