Frankie motioned at the door with his revolver. “Shout her. Tell her to get in here. But don’t make it obvious what’s going on.”
“No,” said Andrew in a firm voice. He would not bring anybody else into his mess. Dalton had already done enough for him as it was.
Frankie pointed the gun at Bex. “I ain’t asking, Andrew. Unless you want me to make an entrance in your daughter’s forehead, I’d do as you’re told.”
Andrew sighed. “Officer Dalton. I’m ready to go with you. Would you come in here?”
There was a moment of silence before the officer replied from outside. “No. I think you should come out here.”
Frankie shook the gun barrel at him. “Think fast, hero! Get her in here now or your daughter’s head becomes a wind tunnel.”
Andrew swallowed a lump in his throat and considered his words carefully. “Officer Dalton, my daughter would like to speak to you before you arrest me. She wants you to promise you’ll get Frankie for what he’s done and that you will keep me safe.”
Frankie laughed. “Nice.”
The door opened and Dalton stepped through. “Sweetheart, I promise we’ll send the little bastard down…” Her words trailed off as her eyes caught Frankie standing in the corner of the room.
Frankie grinned at her. “Well, hello there, honey. Why don’t you sit your fine ass down over there.” He motioned with the gun towards a seat. “Do it now, before I start making holes in people.”
Dalton let the door close behind her and took a step towards Frankie. “Drop the weapon! Drop it right now and no one has to get hurt.”
“Don’t think you understand who has the power here, luv. I have a gun and you…don’t.”
Dalton continued to stare Frankie down and Andrew noticed her gradually move a hand to her hip, resting it on the utility belt that ringed her waist. “I won’t ask you again,” she told Frankie. “Put. The. Weapon. Down.”
Frankie’s self-assured grin grew wider. “Sit the fuck down, you stupid bitch. You ain’t telling no one to do nothing.”
Suddenly Dalton reached for something at her belt; clawing at one of the many pouches. But she wasn’t quick enough. Frankie pulled the trigger before Andrew could even see what it was she’d been reaching for.
The whole room seemed to explode with sound. Andrew’s ears rang and his vision tilted to-and-fro. When it finally returned to normal, Dalton was sprawled across the floor, a pool of blood spreading beneath her. She was alive, but the gunshot wound had made a mess of her guts.
Bex began screaming from her bed.
Andrew scurried to help Dalton but Frankie stood in his way, cocking the revolver ready for the next shot. “Stay the-fuck still.”
“Let me help her,” Andrew pleaded.
Frankie shook his head and sneered. “What’s to help? She’s done for.”
Andrew looked down at Dalton and disagreed. She was certainly in bad shape, but she was still conscious and moving – dragging herself across the floor and propping herself up against the wall. With medical attention, she could make it through, he was sure of it, but if things went on much longer her chances would not be so good.
Another life hanging in the balance of Frankie’s vendetta.
Andrew wished his actions had led him down a better path than this.
Frankie prodded Andrew in his bad ribs with the gun barrel making him wince, then prodded him again for good measure. “Sit down on the floor,” he ordered. “No more playin’.”
Andrew glanced at his daughter who had tears in her eyes. Then he looked away because it hurt too much to see her in pain. He bent his knees and slid himself down onto the floor beside the door and looked over to the adjacent wall at Dalton. She looked right back at him. Her face was pasty, sweat-covered and pale. Blood spilled from her stomach in a steady stream, drenching her white shirt.