Dark Secrets(68)

His hand moved immediately into his pocket, grabbed his ID and flipped it open, "FBI," he yelled, drawing the man's attention, his eyes going bug and his hand shaking. "Put down the gun and kick it in this direction. Don't look at her," he said, voice calm when the man tried to watch Faith who had taken a step in his direction. "Look at me. Put the gun down and kick it to me or one of the, by my count, four people with guns on them are going to put a parade of them into your body. Save yourself and come with me instead."

The man fumbled, looking around wildly, then slowly starting to bend toward the floor, putting the gun down, and kicking it. It slid across the floor loudly in the deathly silent room, clipping the edge of a table and making a woman let out a shriek.

"Hands up," Daniel said, slowly advancing him even as Faith was coming in from the side. He should have told her to stand down. It was wrong of him not to. The gun probably wasn't even legal and he doubted she had a license to carry it either. But in lieu of backup and in a bar full of mafia members and possible enemies, quite frankly, he was a little thankful for the help. "Put the gun down and put these," he said, reaching into another pocket for a pair of bracelets. "Damn it, Faith," he said on a sigh/snort hybrid as Faith flipped the gun in her hand full-on western movie style, then grabbed the muzzle and slammed the handle into the side of the man's head, knocking him out cold so that his body hit the floor with a sickening thud.

"I'll take those now," she said easily. Her voice was even when she spoke as she reached for the cuffs he held toward her, dropping down and yanking the man's hands back and cuffing them. "Check on your friend," she added, looking around, checking for more threats.

Really, he didn't need to be told twice.

He kept his gun in his hand but dropped down beside Max, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling hard enough for the buttons to pop, pulling the material to the side so he could get a look at the gunshot wound.



       
         
       
        

"Got one to match yours now," Max said, his voice a little weak, likely from the sheer amount of blood pooled around him. And the wound wasn't stopping either, blood just kept pouring out.

"Mi amigo, here," Rodrigo's voice said, at his side suddenly, dropping down a bottle of whiskey near his hand.

Max and Daniel shared a look, both acknowledging it was the best bet. Granted, in normal circumstances, cleaning a wound with rubbing alcohol was a slightly better choice, but if the liquor was high enough concentration, it did the job well enough. Daniel uncapped the bottle, gave his friend a nod, then poured. He was met with a chorus of threats and curses, each more foul than the next as Max slammed his left arm down on the ground over and over to try to dull the sting.

"The cops should be here any second," he told Max as Rodrigo produced a clean white kitchen rag and pressed it into Max's chest.

"Hurts like a bitch, but your skin is looking fucking gringo right now, hombre," he explained. And he wasn't wrong, Max was getting whiter by the second.

"Shit. Okay stop, stop talking!" Faith hissed, her voice frantic.

Frantic.

It was so unsettling coming from someone as calm and in-control as her that he willingly turned away from his only friend in the world, a man who was slipping away by the moment, to see what caused her to sound that way.

He found her on her knees beside Anthony, her hand pressed hard into his stomach as two of her fingers pressed into his throat, feeling for a pulse.

"His pulse is thready," she explained, her voice shaking.

"Funny..." Anthony said, his voice a harsh, God-awful whisper.

Daniel moved in beside her, realizing in all her concern about his stomach, she had missed that he was shot in the leg as well, and applying pressure there too, his hands getting covered in the blood of a man he couldn't stand.

"Shut up shut up shut up," she demanded and when Daniel caught sight of her, there were tears in her eyes.

Tears?

He thought she despised the man.

Things were obviously more complicated than he realized between Faith and the D'Onofrio family.

"Failed you that night," Anthony went on, ignoring her demands, obviously thinking it would be his last chance. "Here you are ten years later, trying to save me."

"Please shut up," she demanded, one of the tears slipping free and sliding down her face just as the doors flew open and NYPD flew inside, guns drawn, demanding everyone put their hands up.

"FBI," Daniel said, nodding his head toward a badge on the ground as the men moved in. "So is he," he added, gesturing toward Max as the cop took the badge.