‘Why didn’t he shoot you, Red?’ Oliver said, straightening up with a wince, his voice finding its footing again. ‘Oliver, no,’ Reyna said, a hint of warning, a growl just beneath the surface. But Oliver couldn’t be stopped. He wasn’t sorry. That was what he’d said, before he threw Red out of the RV, but he hadn’t meant it. He couldn’t. He took a step forward. ‘You’re the anonymous witness in the Frank Gotti trial, the entire case rests on you, why didn’t they kill you?’ he said, shaking his lion head. ‘He had his opportunity. You were right there. For three minutes. Why didn’t he shoot you,
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