I cock my head, wondering whether she has any idea what’s going on with daughter’s life. “She’s with me by choice,” I say.
“Being threatened means it’s not a choice! I never should’ve waited so long. He swore so many times that he’d never hurt her! I thought she was okay!”
“Let me talk to her,” Rachel says, putting her arm around me.
I resist letting her step into the open where she’ll be a target, but I don’t want this to end badly if it doesn’t need to.
“Hannah, lower the gun. I’ll let her come out from behind me if you do that. I just don’t want you to accidentally shoot your daughter.”
Her hands tremble, but she shakes her head. “You’ll rush me. If you care about her, let her walk away. She can go to the side and around. I’ll keep the gun on you until she’s free. Those are my terms.”
I’m sure then that she’s not there to hurt Rachel.
“Agreed,” I say and bring my arms up. I rest my hands on my head.
Rachel’s arm comes around me, hugging my body, then she moves to the side into the open.
“I’m all right,” she says. “It’s not the way you think, Mommy. Not with him.”
Her mother’s face crumples, and the gun’s barrel drops several inches.
“It’s okay,” Rachel says softly, rushing to her.
“I tried to reach you. Then—then I heard Frank was forcing you to marry someone. I kept trying. The picture account didn’t get updated for so long, and finally I heard they’d taken you—his former enforcers. They were so dangerous and violent, even when they were young. I couldn’t see you anymore on Instagram. I didn’t know what they were doing to you.”
She hugs her mom tearfully. “It’s okay. I’m fine!” She kisses her mom’s cheek and hugs her again. “I can’t believe you’re here. It’s dangerous for you!”
From the corner of my eye, I see movement. A window coming down. Another gun barrel.
“Raven!”
Her head turns toward the street.
I charge forward, hearing the crack. And another. And another one, louder.
The car’s tires screech. My own gun is out. I spot my best target and shoot a tire. The car swerves and slams into a parked car.
Men jump out and take off down the street. Voices from inside the car are shouting.
I stalk over and look inside. Frank’s slumped against the back seat, holding the side of his neck, which is gushing blood. Pauly’s next to him, trying to help until he sees me.
He starts to raise his gun. Too late. A single shot from me, and his head jerks. He falls onto the floor of the car.
Frank wheezes, shaking his head and holding up one hand.
I don’t lower my gun, nor do I use it. I wait.
He’s pale. The blood spills from between his fingers, his hand slipping off the wound over and over.
He seems to realize he doesn’t have much time. He looks around the car, scrambles for Pauly’s gun.
Distant sirens, getting closer.
I wait, like I’ve got all the time in the world.
He moves with energy I didn’t know he still had. He manages to raise it halfway. I fire.
He jerks back and slumps over.
