Page 70 of Iron Will

Good girl.

I move forward, toward the hallway outside the kitchen. From this vantage, I can see all of Mickey from behind. In his right hand is the gun.

Laney is in a chair on the other side of the table. Facing him.

I shove my gun back into the waistband of my jeans. From this angle, if I try to shoot Mickey, I’m liable to hit one of the women or Paisley instead. Slowly, slowly, I move further down the hall.

When Laney’s face comes into view, the only way I can tell she’s seen me is an almost imperceptible widening of her eyes. She freezes for an instant, then exhales slightly.

“Mickey,” she says, clearing her throat. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

“You think I give a shit?” he sneers. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Mickey,” Bethany pipes up, “ Please! You’re scaring Paisley! Please, put the gun away, before you hurt someone!”

“Shut up goddamnit!” he snarls. Turning to Laney, he barks, “Where’s some tape or rope or somethin’?”

“There’s some tape in the junk drawer,” Laney says in a trembling voice. “The one over there on the far left.”

Mickey inches toward that side of the kitchen, his gun still trained on the women.

“You don’t need to tie me up,” Laney continues. “Just leave, Mickey. You do that, and I won’t say anything. No one will follow you. You have some money now. Take Bethany’s car. We’ll all pretend this didn’t happen. It’s the best thing for everyone. You can’t win this way. You know that.”

“Goddamnit, shut the fuck up!” Mickey yells. His back to me, he raises the gun and points it toward the ceiling.

Seeing my opening, I launch myself toward him just as the gun goes off.

The explosion is deafening in the small kitchen. I see rather than hear Mickey’s piece clatter to the floor as I tackle him to the ground. His head must make a noise when it smacks against the linoleum, too, because I see the bounce. Then I’m on him, pinning him down on his stomach. I wrench both hands behind his back and look up toward the women just in time to see Bethany grab Paisley and drag her under the table.

“It’s okay, it’s good!” I call into the sudden silence, my voice too loud. “He’s down. It’s okay.”

There’s a shout from the living room, and the loud echo of footsteps. “Rourke!”

“Here!”

Yoda appears in the doorway. Behind the table, Bethany and Paisley are getting to their feet. Bethany picks up Paisley in her arms and runs to Yoda, sobbing. Laney stands up shakily from her chair.

Rogue pushes through and looks around the room, then down at Mickey, who’s struggling and yelling. I grab his hair and knock his head once, hard, on the floor. He shuts up.

“He alone?” Rogue asks.

“Yeah. It’s under control.”

He nods, then looks at my feet.

“Nice socks, brother,” he remarks.

“Fuck you,” I toss back. Then, remembering Paisley’s here, I glance at Bethany. “Sorry.”

Bethany bursts out into tears. “I think you get a pass on swearing today,” she says, laugh-crying.

I turn to Rogue. “Grab this motherfucker.” I pull Mickey to his feet and wrench up on his arm once, hard, to let him know not to try anything. When Rogue’s got a good hold on him, I move away, grab the gun off the floor, and stand.

When I look at Laney, she’s smiling at me, tears shining in her eyes.

“I knew you’d figure it out,” she whispers. “I knew you’d come.”

I cross the room in two steps and pull her to me. “You did good, darlin’,” I murmur. “I’m proud of you. You know how to think on your feet.”