"When Simon took you in, he did not expect his generosity would be rewarded so cruelly,” the man continued. Cece held her gun steadily towards him, and he at her, both impassive to the moans of the bleeding men on the ground.
"We have very different definitions of generosity,” she replied. “But I’m not discussing them with you today. You have ten seconds to leave--and take these idiots with you--or I will put you all out of your miserable little lives.” She couldn’t help but bristle. Generosity, indeed--she was in the middle of trying to escape his ‘generosity’ at the moment, and so far it was her most successful attempt since she was a child.
"The idiom is ‘out of your misery.’” He chuckled. “Does your English always falter when you’re nervous?”
Cece cocked her pistol, and felt the familiar rush of pleasure at that click against her palm. The man’s eyes widened. He adjusted his grip, widened his stance, and gave his nervousness away.
“Don’t tell me you’re frightened of a little French woman, monsieur?”
He swallowed. “They are the only women who warrant it.” She laughed, but he did not. “Put your gun down, Celine, or you’ll be worse than dead. Simon is waiting.”
Cece’s fingers suddenly felt like ice on the gun, and for just a hair of a second, she hesitated. The man noticed. But then--
“AAAARRRRGGGGHHHH!!” An animalistic cry came from the shadows and something hurled itself against the man. His pistol went off harmlessly and he tumbled to the ground, trying to escape the strange animal.
No, Cece realized with a sinking feeling. Not an animal. It was Abe. And before she could do a thing about it, Simon’s thug had overpowered him and held the gun happily against the fool’s temple.
Cece was so irritated she could have shot them both.