“Angel, look out!”
Goldie turned too late to see Florence swinging—oh, for fuck’s sake—the damn Real Dill pickle award from the dresser right at his head. It caught his temple, and everything went black for a few moments. He dropped the gun, going to the floor as blood ran down the side of his face.
He heard Day roar, and then there was a loud crash.
Trying to get his eyes to focus, he saw Day with his hands around Florence’s throat after having slammed him into the wall by the door. Florence hooked his arms around Day’s chest and stepped forward, swinging his hip to toss Day off into the hallway.
Day went flying, landing with a heavy thump on the floor.
“No! Flo… fuck you, stop!” Goldie groaned as he struggled to get to his feet. The room spun, and he went down again. Blood ran into his eye, and he wiped it away clumsily. He couldn’t see what had happened to the gun, and his phone was back in the living room.
Someone had to have heard the shot.
Someone had to be calling the police.
Fuck, fuck,fuck.
He didn’t want anyone else to die.
Squinting against the blood, Goldie grunted and dragged himself up. He used the footboard of the bed to steady himself and tried to lurch forward. He could hear Day and Florence struggling out in the living room now because that was definitely the sound of the coffee table flipping over.
He didn’t want Day to get hurt, but he didn’t want Florence to die either. Traitorous prick and would-be murderer that he was, he had still been Goldie’s friend for years.
It didn’t have to end like this.
The room shifted, Goldie’s head spun, and he went down again. He was on his hands and knees now, crawling through the doorway into the hall.
It was only a matter of time before Day killed him.
The two of them were wrestling back and forth, and Florence had Day on the defensive. Florence was trying to put Day into some kind of arm lock and get him on the ground, but Day was able to slip away. Day lunged forward to go for Florence’s throat and got a brutal kick to his knee instead.
Day hunched over, grunting in pain, almost falling, but he managed to stay standing.
Florence tackled him, finally taking Day to the floor. Florence had always been a great wrestler, and he was effortlessly using his weight to keep Day pinned.
Day didn’t try to reverse the hold. Instead, he kept scooting his back along the floor, forcing Florence to move with him as Florence scrambled to keep Day trapped. It didn’t seem like Day was actually trying to escape, and although he was grateful, Goldie didn’t understand why Day was letting this happen.
Until he realized Florence was inadvertently moving with Day into the kitchen where there was a plethora of potential murder weapons waiting.
Well, fuck.
Goldie stumbled toward them as Day’s hand shot up to open one of the lower cabinets. Goldie watched in horror as Day got a hold of the cast iron frying pan.
“Day!” Goldie lurched forward, collapsing just in time to stick out his arm and try to block Day’s swing. “No!”
It didn’t stop him entirely, and Day still clipped the side of Florence’s head.
Florence groaned in pain, and he let go of Day, holding his head as a trickle of blood ran over his fingers.
Goldie pushed Florence away, and then he jumped on top of Day. “Hey, now! Stop!”
“You will not interfere with God’s righteous wrath!” Day scowled, and he swung the frying pan again.
“The fuck I won’t!” Goldie caught Day’s wrist, and he knew immediately Day was holding back.
He had very intimate knowledge of Day’s full strength, and it was weirdly sweet that Day wasn’t trying to actually hurt him when they both knew he could. He wasn’t sure for how long Day might pull his punches though, and Goldie had to move fast.
“Don’t make me hurt you, angel!” Day snarled.
