Chapter 25 #2
“Y’know, Vin, maybe it’s this half of her mug my big brother’s been paying attention to.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pearl-inlaid butane lighter. He flipped the lid and rolled the dial, igniting a flame.
Rod danced the flame close to Fern’s smooth right cheek, laughing when she cringed away from the piercing heat. Vinny grabbed her chin and forced it to stay still.
“Leave her alone!” Cal shouted, but his brother showed no sign of heeding him.
“Here’s what bothers me,” Rod continued, the flame trembling closer to her cheek. Heat seared Fern’s skin as she fought against Vinny’s hold; his palm was sweaty, his fingers slick, but he kept her chin pinned.
“I like symmetry,” Rod said. “You know what symmetry is, right, doll? Two sides being the same thing?”
A hoarse growl was the only warning Rod got.
Cal launched to his feet, unable to fully stand but bowling forward with the chair still on his back.
He crashed into Rod, taking him down to the concrete floor.
Vinny stumbled backward, pulling himself and Fern out of the way.
Though his arms weren’t free, Cal was able to kick at Rod’s body and slam his already battered head into his brother’s.
Rod hit back, socking Cal in the gut, then kicking him over onto the floor again.
But this was no brotherly scuffle. Blood spurted from Rod’s newly broken nose.
Vinny tossed Fern aside, flinging her into the shelves packed with quarts of gin.
He grabbed the metal chair still tied to Cal’s arms and heaved both man and chair to the side.
Blind with panic, Fern pulled a quart of gin from a shelf and lobbed it at the back of Vinny’s head.
The glass broke on impact, and Vinny roared.
He spun back around, his revolver taking aim.
She ducked and screamed, and a shot cracked through the small room.
“Vin, no, you stupid fuck!” Rod’s shout chased the gunshot and the shattering of glass behind her.
Vinny was on her again. Agony exploded through Fern’s head as he walloped her with the grip of his revolver. She crumpled, all sound muffling. From the corner of her blurry vision, she saw Cal had regained his legs and watched as he plowed into Rod again.
Pain flooded her head and burrowed behind her eyes, so sharp that she closed them in a wince.
Vinny’s rough, grasping hands yanked one of her arms, trying to lift her limp weight from the floor.
She forced an eyelid open. Rod’s butane lighter was less than an inch away from her face on the floor. She snapped it up without thought.
“You’re gonna get it, bitch,” Vinny grunted as his fingers pinched and pulled her, dragging Fern to her feet.
She flicked open the lighter’s cover, and flame automatically leaped to the wick.
Vinny spun her around, and before he could see what she held, Fern put the lighter to his shoulder.
In a single gulp, the gin-soaked fabric inhaled the flame.
Vinny screamed and spun wildly, patting his shoulder and dropping his revolver.
It clattered to the floor, and Fern dropped the open lighter to lunge for it.
A foot intercepted her hand, kicking back her arm in a rupture of agony. She landed on her back, paralyzed, unable to breathe.
Rod loomed over her, his face bleeding, his eyes two black slits. Her vision spiraled in and out, showing Cal lying on the floor, the mangled metal chair still tied to his forearms. Blood soaked the back of his head and collar.
“Cal!”
The click of a revolver came on the heels of her scream.
All sound and feeling vanished as the barrel of Rod’s gun lined up with her face.
And then, a wall of flames slammed into him—Vinny, spinning erratically, howling as his gin-soaked back and head propelled the fire.
Gunshots, one after another, cracked through the small room.
Glass shattered behind her as quarts of gin exploded.
There were suddenly voices rising in the corridor, and Vinny’s gurgling screams circling all around her.
Fern tried to push herself to her knees, but her arm seared with pain and folded.
Heat battered her back, and a deafening whoosh of flames stole her breath. She remembered the broken gin bottles, the open butane lighter on the floor, and Vinny, now a fireball.
“Get them out of there!” a voice she didn’t recognize shouted, and more pain rocked through her broken arm as someone hauled her to her knees and dragged her toward the door.
“No!” she struggled. “Cal! Get Cal!”
Fern tried to twist around, but the men dragging her were too fast. Her hair had come loose and stuck to her face, and she sobbed against the wrenching of the men’s hands as they pulled her from the burning room.
“Cal! He’s still in there—Cal!”
The main floor of the Den was in chaos. Plumes of smoke rolled along the ceiling, and an explosion burrowed into her ears and shook her teeth.
Screams and sobs and bellowing shouts swarmed her as she finally got her feet underneath her.
Elbows and shoulders knocked her sideways; a man stepped on her foot; a hard fist slammed into the center of her back.
“Let go!” Fern’s voice cracked and went hoarse; she couldn’t even hear herself above the clamor.
The hands dragging her released her, and her legs collapsed under her.
She crumpled toward the floor, realizing too late that the men’s hold on her had been the only thing keeping her upright.
Feet trampled her, kicking and battering her body, and then, a bone-deep thud preceded a powerful current of hot wind.
Fern’s eardrums burst as someone heavy flopped on top of her. An unmistakable crack of agony shattered through her, and the Lion’s Den went black and silent.