“Yeah,” said a female voice that could only have been Michelle. “But I’m going to stamp on your head first, you fuckin’ perv!”
Andrew could hear Dom and Jordan on the landing as well, but could not make out their words – it was just laughter mostly. It sounded like a party out there. The whole gang is here; ready to get their pound of flesh.
A desperate anger started to occupy Andrew, an instinct reserved only for when fleeing was no longer an option – a sudden spark of insanity that infected any animal inescapably cornered: the willingness to fight to the death.
Andrew clutched the towel rail above his head and told himself it was a mighty broadsword. He pictured that his attackers were pillaging Vikings coming to take his land and women.
Frankie continued kicking at the door.
The wood splintered.
Cracked.
Caved.
Before the door gave way completely, Frankie gave one last hefty kick that splintered it away from the frame. It forced open slowly, pushing aside the linen basket that lay against it.
Frankie poked his head through the gap and grinned maniacally. “Hey man, what you up to? Guy spends too long in the bathroom it starts to look a little…unsavoury.”
Andrew huffed defiantly, still clutching the towel rail above his head. “Nice word. You learn that today? Here’s another one for you – Pussy!”
Frankie lunged into the bathroom.
Andrew swung the towel rail at his shaven head.
The blow connected.
Frankie stumbled backwards and the rear of his thighs hit the lip of the room’s bathtub. He lost his balance and tumbled into the tub.
Andrew took advantage of the situation and made a run for it. But Jordan and Dom blocked his escape; twin slabs of granite extinguishing any hopes of safety.
Before the twins had chance to react, Andrew swung the towel rail at them. The blow missed both targets and struck the battered frame of the doorway. It was enough to make the two boys flinch and step aside.
Andrew suddenly found himself facing an open doorway. There was no place he could think of running that would be any safer than the bathroom, but at least for now Andrew was no longer trapped. He had options again.
He was just about to race out into the hallway when something bit into his calf muscle; a white-hot jolt that travelled up his entire leg.
Andrew fell down onto one knee and glanced over his shoulder to see what had pierced his flesh. He saw Frankie standing over him, grinning, and licking blood from a nasty-looking knife.
“What are we going to do with you?” he said, before stamping on Andrew’s face and sending him swirling into unconsciousness.
Chapter Sixteen
Davie sat in the living room listening to the ruckus upstairs. The women were sat beside him and both shuddered with every sound.
“It will be okay,” Davie told them. “They’ll all be gone soon. My brother’s just having a laugh.”
Rebecca looked at him like he was an idiot. “A laugh? Are you insane? Someone is going to end up dead and you’ll be just as much to blame as your psycho brother.”
Davie shook his head. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Wake up, you dickhead. Your brother’s dragged you into this. You’re the one keeping an eye on us – that makes you one of the kidnappers. You’ll rot in jail unless you let us go right now.”
Davie wanted to make her see sense, but managed only to choke on a mouthful of words that never formed into sentences.
“You’re in a mess and you know it,” Rebecca stated. “You don’t want any of this, do you? You don’t want to end up a worthless thug like your brother.”
“Shut up,” Davie told her. “I won’t hear you talk shit about Frankie.”