Page 104 of Close Quarters

“The gun, the gun!” Elliot managed to shriek over the ringing in my ears.

“Thanks, Mom!” I snarled, getting up into a crouched position. I still could barely see with the white spots in my vision, but then the flashlight was knocked around, and I could finally see Edgar getting up from one knee, his hands still tightly gripped around the gun. “Like fuck you are!”

I dove forward without thinking, tackling him and cringing when the gun went off again as we both hit the ground. His breath was hot on my face as he tried to free the gun to get his hands on me. Knowing damn well, if I let him have even a moment to get control, I was probably going to lose to a far more skilled fighter. I grappled, trying to keep him off balance and fighting more than I was, just like Riley had done to me months ago.

“Oh shit,” I heard Elliot swear fiercely from behind me.

“Boss!” came the very unwelcome sound of Julio’s return.

“Shoot…him!” Edgar growled, still fighting to get the gun out from between us and trying to loosen my grip.

“But I don’t want to hit you!”

“Not him! The other one!”

Terror clawed at my mind as I heard a gunshot almost immediately and heard Elliot give another cry. Only to follow up with an inappropriate, “That was almost my dick, you asshole!”

Jesus fucking Christ, he was so stupid sometimes. I loved the fuck out of that man.

The air was filled with gunshots and, to my surprise, not just the sounds of a rifle. Even Edgar’s eyes went wide in the faint light from the flashlight as he realized Elliot was fighting back.

“I’m guessing he got that from your little fucking demon,” I hissed in a sudden flash of delight.

“His aim needs work,” Edgar snarled, reaching out to grab my face.

“We’ll work on it,” I said, not caring what was right and what wasn’t, as I sunk my teeth into his hand. He cried with pain, yanking his hand back and then headbutting me. I should have seen it coming, but it managed to daze me enough, and he surged forward.

With a frustrated grunt, I found myself propelled onto my back, air slammed out of my lungs as I hit the rock. Edgar didn’t bother fighting with his gun as he rushed forward, trying to slam the flat side of the butt into my head. I caught it before it got too close, grappling with him even as I could feel my strength beginning to wane. I’d had the upper hand before, catching him off guard, but he was more experienced at fighting than I was and had far more stamina.

“Just…hold…still,” he growled.

“Fuck you,” I snapped back, squeezing his hand as hard as I could to force him to loosen his grip. It almost worked, except it made him shift his grip, and I had to follow after, trying the same tactic.

It wouldn’t matter how much time passed after this. What happened next would never make sense. During our struggle, my failing but superior strength in the face of his better stamina, someone’s finger slipped. Both of us were left wincing at the roar in our ears that created a lingering ringing as the gun went off in our hands. Something pinched my skin, making me cry out, but I never loosened my grip as we struggled.

I had only a few moments to register that the fight was lost on my end before a figure bathed half in shadow, half in light, stood above us. I was sure it was over, that Elliot had lost whatever weird gunfight he’d been having, and now Edgar’s flunky would end me as well.

“Hey, fuckface!” came the scream of a familiar voice.

Edgar and I both looked up in surprise, but it was Edgar who was met with a size eleven and a half boot slamming into his face with the grotesque crunch and squirt of cartilage and blood. He fell off me, his grip loosening, and I threw the gun away, not wanting anything to do with it, as I followed Edgar forward.

The man was still in a daze and could only wrap his hands around my wrist before I shoved his head back. He’d fallen toward the hard ground rather than the rock, but I still felt the reverberation of the blow run up his head and into my arms. I didn’t hesitate, doing it again, and again, and again, as hard as I could manage as his eyes rolled back in his head.

And then suddenly Elliot was there, his hands on my face, forcing me to look at him. His eyes were wide and wet around the rims, but he smiled gently. “Hey. Stop. Don’t. He’s not going to hurt anyone, alright? We won.”

“He…” I began, looking down and finding Edgar’s head lolling off to the side when I released him. “Shit…he dead?”

“Don’t think so,” Elliot said, letting go of me and noticeably hesitating before reaching down and pressing his fingers against Edgar’s neck. After a moment, I saw relief, disgust, and a pain-filled flash over his face before drawing his fingers back. “Alive.”

“Boss?” came the shrill call from the radio sitting in the dirt beside us. “Boss, what’s going on?”

“Shit,” I muttered. “What do we do?”

“Let’s make sure this one can’t get up again easily,” Elliot said, pulling zip ties from his pockets. “And do it better than they did to us. I’m not making that mistake like they did.”

“What about…” I began and turned to find the big guy on his side nearby. Half of his neck was a bloody ruin as he lay, staring unblinkingly at us. “Oh shit. E, did you?—”

“Not him,” Elliot said, rolling Edgar over. “Grab his arms, hold them together for me. Then his legs. Then we’re getting some rope from the tent and really bundling him up.”

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