“Shut up!” Hilton yelled, pointing the gun at the dog. Ty scrambled sideways and put an arm around Denver’s neck, but the dog continued to growl. Quinn searched the area around him. Save for a small rock near his left foot, there was nothing in reach.
“Hilton, please, let us go. You have no reason to hurt us. Just let us up the stairs, and we’ll leave you be.”
“Wrong again, sonny boy. I have every reason to hurt you.”
“Why?”
Hilton grinned, his missing teeth a black hole in his mouth.
“Because I can.” He turned and set the flashlight down before grabbing Alice by the hair, bringing her off the cot to her feet. She let out a strangled cry, and Quinn took a step forward. Hilton pressed the barrel of the gun against her temple and cocked the hammer.
“Don’t,” Quinn said, taking another step. He heard the desperation in his voice and so did Hilton who raised an eyebrow.
“We got some feelings for this pretty gal, do we? Okay then, now we have some ground to stand on. I’m going to kill all of you eventually, but I’ll let you decide who goes easy and who doesn’t, how’s that?” Hilton said.
Quinn tried to keep his hands steady as he raised them.
“You don’t need to do this.”
“Aww, enough of that bullshit. We’re past that. This is happening. Now are you gonna choose who gets a bullet and who gets the saw blade or am I?”
Quinn looked at Alice and then glanced at Ty who crouched beside Denver, the dog’s neck outstretched, muzzle full of fangs. He licked his lips, staring at the revolver, trying to remember.
Finally he let out a sob and dropped to his knees before Hilton.
“Shoot me. I don’t care about them,” Quinn said.
Hilton pointed the handgun at him. The barrel looked a mile long in the shadows cast from the flashlight.
“Well, I didn’t figure you for a coward, but there’s one inside us all. Sometimes he just needs some proddin’.”
Alice choked his name past her gag, eyes huge and full of disbelief.
“Quinn, what are you doing?” Ty asked as he lost his grip on Denver. The dog took a step forward, releasing another explosive bark. Hilton aimed the gun at the Shepherd, but when Denver didn’t come any nearer, he shifted his attention back to Quinn who let his face crumple with another sob.
“Please shoot me; I can’t stand pain.” Quinn brought his hands forward in supplication. “Please.”
He said the last word as a whisper and closed his eyes.
“Well, that makes it easier for me,” Hilton said, stepping closer. He placed the gun barrel against Quinn’s forehead. “The bitch and the little one will be more fun anyway. Night night, handsome.”
Hilton pulled the trigger.
The hammer fell. Nothing happened.
Quinn slapped the gun away from his head and jumped to his feet, slamming his fist into Hilton’s gaping jaw. There was a crack loud enough to resound in the dead air of the room, and the flashlight spun away on the floor. Quinn launched himself at the older man who grunted in pain as he fell onto the stairs behind him.
Ty screamed something, and Denver barked again.
Quinn found the soft flesh of Hilton’s neck and locked his hands around it, pressing his thumbs deep into the man’s jugulars. Hilton swung a fist up. Quinn’s ear detonated with pain and tears rushed from his eyes, blinding him. Instead of caving in to the impulse to let go, he held tighter and brought his forehead down on Hilton’s nose.
Blood spurted black in the low light.
Quinn let go with one hand and hammered a fist into Hilton’s shattered nose.
He hit him again.
And again.
And again.
The old man coughed out a spray of blood that speckled Quinn’s face and went slack. He slid down the stairs and lay still at their base.
Quinn stood back from the crumpled form, lungs heaving, blood dripping from his knuckles, his face. He reached down and plucked the revolver from the floor and holstered it before going to Alice and Ty who stood beside Denver. Quinn untied the gag and drew the filthy cloth from her mouth.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Oh my God,” she said, her voice raw. “Yes, I’m fine. What the hell happened?” She staggered, and he helped her ease to the floor.