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Mullet and Limpy didn’t have much originality. They each held a 9MM semi-equipped with a silencer. That wasn’t a good sign. They planned on shooting us in the apartment. Silently.
The bulge in Mullet’s ankle told me he had a backup piece in his left boot, probably a revolver. Limpy wore boots, so I had to assume he had at least one backup hidden too.
To my surprise, Nana tiptoed out of the bedroom, holding her damn bat at the ready. I nearly gasped.
Her eyes were fixed on the back of Fiona’s head. Foolish old woman was going to get herself killed.
A quick glance at Butch and his two guys confirmed that none of them had seen her. Idiots all had their backs to the bedroom. They never should have underestimated her.
This was my chance. Nana only needed another three or four steps before she could swing at Fiona. I planned out my attack, memorizing the precise location of each person. I repeated the moves quickly in my mind so that once I went into motion, instinct would kick in.
Nana took her final step.
I braced my toes under me, and all my muscles tensed, ready to jump to my feet.
Nana swung.
I jumped.
By the time I landed on my feet, I’d freed myself of the ropes. I went for Limpy first. His eyes grew wide. He raised his gun.
Before he could shoot, I twisted his wrist and took his 9MM.
I had three targets to hit before any of them had time to fire. I aimed at my first target and let my instincts take over.
One. Two. Three.
Whack!
Limpy and Mullet lay motionless, blood oozing out of the center of their foreheads.
Butch dropped Myrtle, his arm hanging limp at his side from his shoulder wound. I didn’t miss. I wanted him alive for the punishment he needed for hurting Lila.
I lunged and tackled him to the ground before he could reach for another weapon. I punched him in the face, the crack of his breaking nose giving me tiny satisfaction. I punched again. And again…and again. His right eye, his left eye, his jaw. I kept punching until he passed out, his face covered in open wounds and blood.
Fiona crouched on the floor, cradling her head. Her favorite knife lay near Lila’s feet. “Owww. You crazy old hag. Someone fucking kill the bitch.” She glanced up and scanned the room. “Fuck.”
Nana stood over Fiona, holding her bat limply. “Nobody messes with my Sugarplum, you floozy. I warned you I’d kill you for this.” She barely looked like she had enough strength left in her wrists to hold a pen, much less a bat.
I ran to Nana and took the bat from her. “Can you help Lila with her bindings?”
“Of course, I can. I’m not a weakling, you know. I threw this bitch down, didn’t I?” She shuffled over to Lila’s chair.
Fiona reached for her ankle. I pressed my gun to her head. “Don’t fucking try it.”
I kept my eyes fixed on Fiona but kept my peripheral vision on Butch’s unconscious body, watching for movement, in case he woke up. “Nana, Lila, leave. Now.”
“No,” Lila said in a shaky voice. “Not without you.”
Butch and Fiona had to suffer for what they did. I refused to go easy on them by killing them too quickly. But I couldn’t have Lila witnessing the heinous things I’d planned. “Nana, get her out of here,” I ordered.
“Not a chance, kid. This involves her now too. We’re in this together.”
Stomping feet sounded from the hall.
Fuck, they had backup. “Get down,” I yelled to Lila and Nana.
They ducked behind the couch. I yanked Fiona off the ground and used her as a shield. With my gun to her throat, I said, “Tell them to stay away.”
