Page 76 of Girl, Reformed

He flung Vanzetti to the ground, one handsplayed across his chest to pin him like a collected butterfly. The other dovebehind his back, came up with what Ella recognized as a snubnose thirty-eight.Light glinted obscenely off the barrel as he jammed it against Vanzetti'ssweat-slick temple.

‘Nobody move!’ Doyle cried. Ella could seehis finger itching on the trigger. A hair’s breadth from oblivion. ‘Either ofyou move and I kill this man right here.’

Ella felt her lip curl. ‘Put down thepiece, Doyle. You're outgunned and out of time.’

Doyle's eyes darted between them, beadyand black as a shark's. He dug the pistol into Vanzetti's skin. ‘I'm the onewriting this punchline. I'm the one who decides how it ends.’

‘Sounds to me like you already reached thebig finale,’ she said, mouth quirking without humor. ‘Got a little somethingextra in your act tonight, huh? Why the gun?’

Doyle bared his teeth like a wild dogchoking on its own chain. ‘Someone stole my cable.’

‘You didn’t have a spare?’ Ella took astep forward, Glock ready to unload on Doyle’s shoulder.

Doyle's chuckle was a rusty saw draggingover bone. ‘This guy is too good for shooting. He needs to suffer, but if Ihave to… he’s paying for what he took from me.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Everything.’

Ella edged closer for a better shot.Judging by the Vanzetti’s world-weary daze, she didn’t have much time to makethe save. Vanzetti needed medical assistance if he wanted any chance of stayingalive longer than a few minutes. Once unconsciousness set in, there was nochance he wasn’t waking up without brain damage – if he woke up at all. Ellasubtly glanced back at her partner. Luca was edging in the opposite direction.She trusted him to read the room.

‘What’s everything?’ she asked. Keephim talking until you can get a clean shot.

‘Fame, glory, everything.’ Doyle pushedthe gun barrel harder into Vanzetti’s temple. The poor club owner was so out ofit his head just lolled. ‘All because this asshole wanted attention for thisstupid club.’

‘You want to blame someone for yourfailure? Look in the goddamn mirror.’

Doyle's face twisted, ugly and animal.‘You what?’

‘You pissed your pants onstage and nevergot over it. Big deal.’

‘I’m going to kill Freddy, youunderstand?’ Doyle yelled. ‘I don’t care if you kill me. I’ll still be in thepapers tomorrow.’

Doyle was too far gone, too deep in hisown madness for any kind of negotiation. He was going to burn the house downwith everyone in it for one last shot at the big time.

Time for the hard sell.

‘Okay, Seb, you've made your point. Gotthe whole world watching.’ Ella lowered her gun a fraction. ‘Let Vanzetti go.He's not the one you want, not really. It's us. It's always been us.’

Confusion warred with rage on the comic'swasted face. ‘What?’

Ella took another step towards the stage,arms spread. ‘We're the final boss. The big bad wolf to your little pig. Youwant to make this right? You want real closure?’ She thumped her chest with thebarrel of her gun. ‘Take your shot. Pull the trigger and watch me bleed. See ifthat fills up the hole where your soul should be.’

‘Ella, what the hell-’ Luca hissed. Butshe waved him off, never breaking eye contact with Doyle. The comic wastrembling now, sweat running in rivers down his sallow cheeks. Want and hatred,fear and desperate starvation, chasing each other like dogs in his beady eyes.

‘You want me to shoot a cop?’ he rasped.‘That's my big break?’

‘No, nimrod. I want you to give up likethe bitch you are. But we both know that ain't happening.’ Ella's voice droppedto a purr, the kind reserved for death row inmates and rich men's daughters.‘So take your free shot. Paint me red for your adoring fans. Then we'll see whohas the stones to keep this comedy of errors rolling.’

She had him. Could see the indecision, theshattered crystal of his psyche fragmenting further with every passing second.The gun wavered against Vanzetti's head, the club owner himself now on theverge of passing out.

It was almost a relief when Doyle moved. Aquick jerk, a spasmodic twitch.

Then Vanzetti was tumbling to the stagelike a sack of rotten fruit.

‘Luca, the vic!’ Ella roared even as Doylebrought his piece to bear. The rookie didn't hesitate, just broke for Vanzettiin a flying tackle that sent them both skidding into the orchestra pit.

Ella gave them a half-second glance, justlong enough to see Luca's fingers seeking a pulse in Vanzetti's fleshy throat.

---