"As soon as I am done being interrogated by Detective Blockhead," he agreed with a nod.
He was vaguely aware of the cops finally getting Vin to open the panic room doors and of Vin and Salvatore being cuffed. It was all show, though. They couldn't charge them with shit. They would skate, as they always did. Normally, he couldn't have given any less of a fuck about their future, but for reasons he finally understood, they were important to Faith. That meant that he cared that they didn't get locked up for a lifetime for crimes they actually didn't commit for a change.
See, he had heard the interaction between Anthony and Faith. How couldn't he? And the pieces fell into place.
Anthony had been there the night her parents had been brutalized. That was likely because some of Vin's men had done the brutalizing. Because he had done a lot of research on the job, he knew that was some shit that Vin would not allow. Hell, word was that Vin put a hit on Xander Rhodes' wife's ex because he had tortured her in God-awful ways for years and she had asked it of him.
In a way, for a criminal, he had a decent moral compass.
So if his men hurt women and children, Daniel had no doubt that those men weren't breathing easy anymore.
"FBI, huh?" Vin asked, lips curved upward slightly despite the shooting, despite his son clinging for life. "I'm getting rusty." There was no malice in his words, likely because he knew Daniel hadn't seen or overheard anything that could be used against him.
"Faith," K's voice clipped, drawing Daniel's attention and he turned his head to find K physically restraining Faith as the detective turned away from them.
Knowing it was going to be tense, but not giving a fuck, he moved over toward the duo, stepping in front of Faith, an action that made her stop struggling and shake off K.
At Daniel's raised brow, she huffed out a breath. "He's such a fucking dickhead."
"That he is," he agreed, watching as the bluster slowly drained out of her, as she watched Vin and Salvatore be led outside along with the other two men who had been at the meeting.
"What the hell happened here?" she asked, mostly herself. "Oh, God, I have to call Gio," she declared, suddenly moving away to go behind the bar and grab her cell. She hit the number and stared for a long time at the phone, taking deep breaths. "Yeah, it's me," she said, her voice a small imitation of itself. "Gio listen. There was a shooting inside Lam and Anthony is at the hospital." There was a short pause, her eyes wincing. "No, it was serious, Gio. You need to get over there. Yeah, they're down at the station. No. Okay. Yeah. I will meet you there. Okay. Bye."
She tucked the phone into her front pockets and went to scrub her hands down her face in frustration when she froze suddenly, arms in the air, taking in the blood covering her hands up to her wrists.
And when he said she froze, she fucking froze.
"You and me, we need to have some words. But right now," K said, giving Daniel another hard look, "I need you to take care of that girl. I could do it, but I think she needs it to be you right now."
Daniel gave him a small nod and moved behind the bar, snagging one of the raised arms at the wrist and slowly pulling Faith out from behind the bar and down the small side hall toward the bathrooms. He led her up to the sink, his body right behind her, reaching around her to turn on the tap, pulling her hands under the stream with one hand and reaching for the soap in the other.
"I need to get to the hospital," she said, her voice weak.
"Right now, you need to clean up. Then I will bring you to the hospital."
"I don't want you..."
"Yes, you do," he cut her off, catching her eyes for a split second in the mirror before she lowered her gaze, but seeing the truth there. She did want him with her. That was all he needed to know.
"I know he's an asshole and I know he's done a lot of shitty things to me and to other people, but he's sick," she said, voice barely loud enough to be heard over the water, maybe paranoid that someone was listening.
"Sick?" Daniel repeated, scrubbing soap across his hands and then hers, not exactly unaware of how still she was holding hers, like she was afraid maybe that she would grab his hands and hold on if she wasn't careful.
"He's an alcoholic. He has been for about a decade now. He's really not so bad when he's mostly sober. I think," she paused, taking a breath. "I think he was trying to clean up. Making an effort anyway. And now..."
"And now he's probably in surgery and hopefully he gets a second chance to do just that," Daniel said, not sugar-coating the possibility that he wouldn't, knowing she wasn't the kind of woman for empty promises. "I still need to talk to the dickhead, baby," he said, the side of his face resting against the side of her head as he curled his palm and fingers over one of her hands. And she didn't pull away. "I know you need to go. Maybe K can go with and I will meet you?"