Dieter stepped to the side, blocking Pierre. His gun rose from beside his leg, and he held it with one hand, halfway up, with his other hand out flat to signalstop.“Don’t come any closer.”
“I have nothing,” Pierre begged Flicka. “I have nothing left.I am nothing.”
He lunged at Dieter, but Dieter shoved him backward. “Stay back. Stay away from her.”
On Pierre’s face, grief transformed into rage.“There’s nothing left of me.”
Pierre lunged again and feinted to the right. Dieter followed him, his arm wide to clothesline Pierre.
Flicka backpedaled, trying to stay out of Dieter’s path as the two men fought hand-to-hand.
Dieter intermittentlyslapped Pierre’s hands away from his gun arm and blocked when Pierre punched him. “What are you—”
Pierre tried to duck under Dieter’s arm, trying to get her. Flicka stumbled on a chair leg and slammed into the floor, bashing her elbows.
“Flicka!”Pierre roared and lunged at her.
She scrambled backward with her feet and elbows, trying to escape him.
Dieter jumped with his arms spread, tacklingPierre in mid-flight, but his foot slipped on the ornate Persian rug underfoot, and they fell.
Pierre snatched Dieter’s pistol out of his hand and rolled away.
Dieter leaped for him, grasping, blocking every inch where Pierre might aim at Flicka.
She yelled,“No!”trying to stop the Earth from turning.
On the other side of the room, Quentin Sault ran forward, hands outstretched.
Pierre flippedthe gun backward, stuffed the barrel under his own chin, and pulled the trigger, blasting an explosion through the air.
