Amy screamed.
Nothing happened. The US cavalry, her fairy godmother, even the West Midlands Police – all were conspicuous by their absence. As if frozen in time, Shaun still stood before her with a gun in his hand. Jeb lay on the concrete floor, a red stain growing like a flower on his white T-shirt. Kat’s mouth was open, but no sound emerged; she was clutching Ross’ arm for comfort.
“Shut up. You’re giving me a headache,” Shaun said savagely.
Amy willed herself into silence, staring at him in fear and disbelief. She might as well have shot Kat and Ross herself. If it hadn’t been for her arrival at Erik’s flat, Jeb and Shaun would never have known where Kat was, wouldn’t have stayed to see Ross return from London. She shivered. Shaun would never let them go. He could not.
As if echoing her thoughts, Shaun said, with a trace of regret in his tone, “It wasn’t you, then, sweetheart. I came all this way for nothing. It’s a shame you had to see this, but that’s too bad.” He sighed.
“Let us go,” Ross pleaded. “You know Kat’s done nothing to harm you. None of us have.”
Shaun frowned. “Like I said, it’s too bad.”
“Kill me, not her,” Ross said.
Shaun sneered. “You’re dying anyway. Do you think I want witnesses?” He steadied his gun.
Ross dived again. He threw himself forward, reaching for Shaun’s ankles and curling himself up to deliver a blow from his skull to Shaun’s groin as the bigger man fell down. The gun was fired uselessly in the air.
Amy noticed Kat gawping at Ross, admiration plain on her face. Who knew how long that would last? If they couldn’t escape, he’d never profit from it.
Ross grappled with Shaun for the gun. It was clear that Shaun wasn’t relinquishing it easily. He pulled the trigger whenever he could, spraying the room with slugs at random. They ricocheted in different directions. Mere chance saved them from a hit.
Ross’ luck ran out. A bullet clipped his knee. He screamed in agony, momentarily giving Shaun the upper hand.
It wasn’t the only gun in the room, of course. Amy saw the same realisation dawn on Kat’s face as she eyed Jeb’s dead body. While Kat swooped down on Jeb’s weapon, Amy hobbled towards Shaun.
The gangster was preoccupied by his fight. Gritting her teeth, her ankle throbbing, Amy stamped on Shaun’s right arm. Indescribable pain exploded in her foot, but it was worth it. At last, Shaun let go of his gun. She kicked it away before falling to her knees, sobbing.
“Freeze,” Kat said, and then louder, “I’ve got a gun and I know how to use it.”
The effect was electric. Shaun and Ross ceased struggling and gawped at her.
“Put that down,” Shaun said finally. “A girl like you shouldn’t go near a dangerous weapon like that.”
“Don’t call my bluff,” Kat said.
Shaun made no further protest.
“Tie him up,” Kat commanded.
“We’re rather short of rope, Kat. I’ll use my tie.” Ross stared at her, wide-eyed.
Despite the pain seething through her, Amy had to suppress a grin. Ross wasn’t used to being given orders, except by the redoubtable Cari. Nevertheless, he did as he was told.
It was a typical city tie, co-ordinated precisely with his shirt and cufflinks, and had probably cost more than Amy spent on a week’s food. Ross unknotted the delicate silk length and roughly bound Shaun’s hands behind his back. He wasn’t gentle.
“Nothing for the legs, sorry,” Ross said. “Anyway, we can’t carry him all the way back to the surface. Like this, he’ll climb the ladder, and we’ll hand him in to the police.”
“Who says we’re telling the police?” Kat replied.