50
“Oy! Ya b****y wanker!” Conor called from the passenger seat. “You hurt her, I’ll fuckin’ end ya!”
Fiddler pulled out a compact semiautomatic with his left hand and aimed it at Conor. “Keep talking, smart-a*s! I’ll put a hole in her head and then yours.”
“You really are an asshole, Fiddler,” I said, staring past the gaping barrel in my face, my pulse racing. I thought about trying to disarm him, but he was far enough away that he would pull the trigger before I reached him.
“Just want what’s rightfully mine. This was my case.”
“We apprehended her. She’s ours.”
His trigger finger tightened.
“Whoa!” I held up my hands. “Fine. You can have her.”
“No funny business, Ballou.”
I reopened Holly’s door. “What’s going on?” she asked in a terror-filled voice.
I released her seat belt an
