Marie crossed her arms over her chest, “Safe from who?”
Elizabeth spoke into the phone at her ear, giving the 911 operator our address before adding, “I need the police-”
Elizabeth didn’t finish the sentence because the phone was roughly pulled from her grip and she was knocked to the floor. A collective shocked breath fanned through the room; all eyes fitfully rested on three very large, very sinister looking skinheads- with neck tattoos- pouring into the small space, made significantly smaller by their looming thickness.
One of the men was holding Fiona around the waist. He had a gun in his hand which was currently directed at Quinn but their collective attention was rigidly affixed on me.
“Well, hell- Jem. It’s been a long time.”
The taller of the three addressed his comment to me and I recognized him as the scary stranger from the park.
“What the hell are you doing, Sam? Does Seamus know you are here?” Quinn stepped in front of me and, therefore, Sandra and Kat, hiding us from Goon# 1, Goon#2, and Sam.
I heard rather than saw Sam’s harsh reply, “You shut the fuck up, Quinn. You said you didn’t know where she was-”
“You are making a serious mistake.” Quinn’s voice made me shiver. Even though they held a gun on him, his tone made it perfectly clear he was not to be bothered with trivial things- like bullets. “Like I told Seamus, this is not Jem.”
I noticed Marie shifting on her feet, her hand still around the bottle of tequila, her eyes wide as they moved between Quinn and the skinhead called Sam.
I heard the click of something, which I guessed was the safety of a gun, because Quinn became suddenly rigid, the threatening tenor of his slowly spoken words almost tangible, “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m taking that bitch, I’m taking her back to Seamus and he can decide if she is Jem or not but I’m sick of dicking around Chicago-”
Unexpectedly, it was Marie who spoke next, “Like. Hell.”
A few things happened at once.
I didn’t really see everything as I was behind Sandra who was behind Quinn and Kat was to my right, also partially blocking my view. But, what I did see was the aftermath and was therefore able to put the pieces together.
Marie must have thrown the bottle of tequila at Goon#1, the one who had been holding Fiona, because his gun went off and the bullet hit the wall somewhere above the window. But he staggered backwards holding his head. Fiona must have been preparing for his moment because she withdrew two long Susan Bates knitting needles from her project bag, the long thick ones that beginners typically learn on with the white nobs at the end, and stabbed Goon#1 in the shoulder. Immediately the gun dropped from his hand.
Elizabeth, who had been on the floor the whole time, reached for the gun as Goon#2 tripped over her legs and fell heavily against the bookshelf.
Kat yelped when the gun went off and grabbed my hand. To my surprise she threw both of us behind the couch. I landed on the floor quite ungracefully, taking the brunt of my fall on the left side of my body.
Quinn flipped the coffee table up on its side, presumably to offer a modicum of cover against the potential impending rain of bullets, and reached for a previously hidden glock in the back of his pants, training it on the skinheads just as Sam pulled out his handgun. However, before Quinn or Skinhead-Sam could fire a round, diminutive and petite Fiona screamed and pushed Sam forward.
She was small and he was big; therefore, other than a momentary inability to balance, Sam quickly recovered and turned his rage and weapon on Fiona. At this point, Elizabeth was able to fire one round. It hit Sam in the stomach and he promptly doubled over with a gurgled curse before Goon#2 reached Elizabeth and wrestled the weapon from her grip, elbowing her roughly in the face as he did so.
“Oh, shit! Ow! That hurt!” Elizabeth cried.
Before Goon#2 could raise the weapon, however, Marie and Sandra launched themselves across the room, Sandra yodeling like Tarzan. I heard Quinn exclaim, “Damn it!” before he jumped over the coffee table a second later.
Surprisingly, Marie and Sandra made very efficient work of tackling the big man to the ground. Admittedly, he was still on his knees, trying to scramble upwards, when they reached him and- yes- Marie kicked him in the groin area with pointed boots immediately upon entering his sphere of personal space. Sandra grabbed the 9mm from him while he was distracted and, to my very great surprise, after promptly switching back on the safety, proceeded to clobber him with the butt of the gun.
“I-”
clobber
“-am going-”
clobber
“-to fuck-”
clobber
“-you up-”
clobber
“-bitch!”