Page 68 of Wild Card

He’s deploying the worst kind of psychological warfare to get the upper hand here. Patrick stops moving completely, and I wonder if Freddie has any idea the kind of trouble he’s in if Patrick gets to him.

It wouldn’t be a quick death.

“You know the rules, Gio.”

“I do,” I reply, levelly. “But it wasn’t your decision to make. It was mine. It was my right to kill him for hurting my grandmother, for setting up my parents, and you took that from me. You know the rules too, Freddie.”

And it was my right for what he did to Catriona. This woman who stokes an intensity of affection in me that I’ve never felt so strongly before. I stroke her hair and her eyes dart behind closed lids, her lips moving as if in silent prayer.

I won’t let it end like this for her.

I can’t. I’ll die first.

“Let her go,” I say, straightening up and gesturing at Callan and Patrick. “Let these two take their sisters, and you and I can settle our debts like men instead of hurting innocent women.”

Callan’s eyes flick between Catriona and Bridget. He’s doing terrible calculus in his head, trying to make an impossible choice. Who will he save if he can only save one of them?

He doesn’t have to worry. He won’t have to make that choice.

“There’s three of us and one of you,” Patrick snarls. “I’m going to enjoy smashing your face through the back of your skull.”

“I could kill the prima donna in a second,” Freddie warns. “Snap her dainty neck like a twig before you even come near.” He digs his filthy fingers into Bridget’s skin trying to evoke a reaction. She’s trembling, eyes bright with fear, but she’s trying not to make a sound. These women are brave as hell, but this shouldn’t be happening—they shouldn’t have to be brave like this.

“Then it’s still three on one and you’re a guaranteed dead man, Freddie, and it won’t be a pretty end,” I say. “Take my offer. Then it’s just you and me. Catriona needs to get to the hospital, now. Her brothers won’t waste any time waiting for me, especially since it was my uncle that took her in the first place.” I look at Callan. “Will you?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “Absolutely not.”

“Give me a gun,” Freddie says.

“Not until the women are safe. Then I’ll give this one to you.”

Freddie laughs. “You know, Gio. The sad thing is, you’re too fucking moral to shoot an unarmed man. I believe you.” He presses his mouth to Bridget’s hair, right above her ear. “Sorry, sweet girl. Maybe another time.” He releases his hold on her, shoving her violently at Callan. She stumbles forward, arms pinwheeling as she gasps for breath, trying to regain her balance. Callan scoops her up before she hits the ground.

He goes to shout at Patrick, but he doesn't need to. The big man already has Catriona in his arms. The two men rush out, leaving me and Freddie to our fates. The relief I feel is palpable. The air is thick with the stink of blood and the ozone from the gun fire, but now that I know the women are safe, I can breathe easier. Even if this doesn’t go my way, I can meet my maker in peace.

Of course, I’d rather it be Freddie heading straight to hell.

I take my time, wanting to create whatever space I can for Callan and Patrick to be gone from here entirely. We took out a number of Freddie’s men together, but it’s a different story now that they have Catriona and Bridget with them. I wait, listening for gun fire, and when I hear none after a few minutes have passed, I toss the gun to Freddie.

I won’t be like him. I won’t shoot an unarmed man.

He points it at me, shaking his head.

“It’s a waste, Gio. I always liked you.”

“That’s too bad, because I’ve always thought you’re a piece of shit.”

He chuckles and gives a little shrug.

“One of the hazards of the job, I suppose. Tell your grandfather I said hello, Gio. I’ll be sending his wife to him next.”

Not if I can help it. I rush him, and he pulls the trigger.

But the gun doesn’t go off.

It must’ve jammed.

I silently thank whichever one of my relatives in heaven pulled that off, and tackle Freddie, slamming us both against the hard concrete floor. We wrestle for the gun as he screams in rage, snapping his finger on the trigger again and again. I manage to turn the muzzle away from me and toward his chest when it finally fires in rapid succession.

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