Unbreakable (City Lights, #2)(17)

I flinched. “No, you won’t. We don’t need to eat that badly. It won’t kill us to wait, but it could kill you just to ask.”

“No one’s going to get killed,” Cory said. “But forget food, we need water. It’s been too long.”

Tanya nodded. “We need water, but Alex is right. Frankie’s got a bone to pick with you, Cory.” She swallowed hard. “I’ll do it.”

“No,” Gil said from the other side of the room. “I-I’ll do it. I can do it.”

We watched him rise shakily to his feet, Cory with a scowl. “This is ridiculous,” he hissed at me. “The man is petrified.”

“And you’re not?” I whispered back. “Because I am.” For you.

Twice now I’d seen Frankie point that big ugly death machine at Cory and both times I’d felt something curl up in me, squeezing until I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t want anyone else to get on Frankie’s psychotic bad side, but I couldn’t help but feel Cory’s luck was going to run out.

Even so, I felt terrible for Gil. He faltered after one step. Cory shot up helped him resume his seat, shooting me a stern look.

“I’ll do it,” Cory said, his tone brooking no argument.

I watched him approach the door, but Amita, who’d been quietly talking to the police almost nonstop made a hissing sound. “They’re sending in pizza.” She touched a manicured finger to her hidden earpiece and waved at Cory to sit.

I eased a sigh of relief as he made to return to my side, when Frankie opened the door, a half-incredulous, half-eager expression on his face.

“Who said you could get up, *?”

Cory turned, hands raised, but Frankie had already shrugged the gun strap off his shoulder. He was a slight man, but moved with a furious speed. He flipped the AR-15 around and slammed the butt into the side of Cory’s head as if were trying to bust down a door, catching Cory completely off-guard.

Cory reeled and went down hard, blood pouring from the gash over his right eyebrow.

Sylvie screamed, and it was like a starting gun at a race. I shot forward to Cory’s side, catching him just as he would have knocked his head on the ground, which was hardly more than carpet-covered cement. I cradled his head in my lap while Frankie paced and danced, looming over us.

“Ooh, that felt good. Real good.” He licked his lips and his eyes turned to me. “Didn’t like that, did you, Red? What’s the matter? You don’t want me touching your boyfriend?” He grabbed his crotch and jigged it up and down. “How ‘bout I touch you instead?”

“No…” Cory struggled to sit. “Leave her alone…”

Frankie laughed. “Or what? You’re going to bleed on me, f*cker?”

Thankfully, Cory kept his mouth shut. He held his hand over his eye, and blood seeped from between his fingers. I helped him move back to his seat against the wall, hoping the presumption that this ugly scene was over would be enough to convince Frankie.

“You should watch your mouth, young man,” Carol snapped at him. “And bring me a cloth and something to clean that wound.”

Frankie laughed. “Yeah, right. Sit tight, piggies. Dinner is almost served.”

“Make mine pepperoni,” Roy muttered in an undertone. Everyone gasped—including me—as Frankie stopped, turned.

“What did you say?”

“N-Nothing,” Roy said. “Just…getting hungry.”

Frankie cocked his head. He wore his Frankenstein’s monster mask on his head like a party hat. “The pigs outside negotiated with Drac to get you piglets some pizza.” He cocked his AR-15 at the portly man. “How did you know?”

Roy’s jaw moved up and down but no sound came out.

“Speak up, fat man!” Frankie shrieked.

But Roy had frozen up. We all had, and now the big man was going to die. Frankie released the safety on his gun. The terrible metallic sound filled the small room.

“It was a coincidence,” Cory said quickly. “We’re all just hungry. Like he said.”

Frankie swiveled his wide-eyed stare toward him and the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. Too many times. Cory’s drawn this psycho’s attention too many times.

“You’re lying,” Frankie said. “Tell me how you knew about the pizza or I’ll split your head open. For real this time.”

Time seemed to stand still. The air in the room vanished. I tried to breath and couldn’t as the reality became clear: Cory told the truth and Amita could die, or he could keep silent and Frankie’s patience with him would come to its final, grim end.

Cory kept silent.

Frankie’s fingers twitched over the trigger guard, but he looked torn, uncertain. I prayed that Dracula had given orders to not kill anyone…and that Dracula had enough clout that Frankie didn’t dare cross him.

Then Wolfman appeared in the door, and all of us—Frankie included—appeared relieved.

Wolfman’s eyes darted around from under his mask, landed on Cory and his bloody gash. “Now what? That guy acting up?”

Frankie’s head bobbed up and down. “Fucker knows something but won’t tell me. They all do. That one’s been giving me shit since the start. I was thinking I should end him right now, right? Don’t you think?”