"Drop the gun, Kevin!" Michael, ignoring his own weakness, rushed forward to grab his brother's wrist. "We have to call the police, or an ambulance! My God, you shot someone—"
"Call the police?" Kevin stared at him like he was an idiot and violently shook off Michael's hand. "This is the fucking South Bronx! It takes the cops three hours to get here, and then they'll just haul me in without asking questions. You won't get away either. They don't give a shit about 'just enforcement.' You want Mom to come bail us out? Do we have the money for that?"
As he spoke, he nudged the robber on the ground with the tip of his shoe, checking if he was dead or alive. Once he confirmed the man wasn't moving, he grabbed Michael by the collar with his wiry frame and dragged him into a nearby alley overflowing with trash.
