Before Frank could answer, Philip’s right hand was gripping the gun’s slide and pushing it toward the floor. His body was wrenched back at a sideways angle, away from the weapon. Rick heard the pop of the gun firing and the sound of a bullet slamming into something hard, pavement or brick. Philip’s other hand covered the gun. Frank yelped as his body tilted in the direction of his sharply turned wrist.

Rick stepped forward, a calculated delayed reaction to Frank’s obvious need for assistance. His partner was not a marksman. He’d feared Frank accidentally shooting him while aiming for Philip. But he was more afraid of what Philip might do now that he had the gun.

He heard the click of the slide retreating and snapping back into place. One of Frank’s hands shot up in the air. The other remained wrenched at an unnatural angle by his chest. “Philip. Let’s talk,” he said. “That’s all we really wanted. We just need to understand—”

The gun rose. In the dim light, Rick could see not only the weapon but also the torso of the man behind it. His chest inflated and sank. Philip’s adrenaline was up. His blood was pounding.

Rick dropped to the ground. He tucked his chin to his chest and put his hands over his head, an instinctual hedgehog defense. Philip might still shoot him, but he wouldn’t be facing the bullet. He didn’t want to see his life end.

He fell over from a sharp pain in his side. The blow had come with a dull thud but not the click or pop of a firearm’s discharge. Rick remained curled up as another kick landed to his rib cage. “You come to my house, break my window, scare my wife, stalk me at my work.” Kicks punctuated each whispered phrase. Philip wasn’t raising his voice because he didn’t want the cops to come, Rick thought. He wanted to beat him to death in this alley.

“No. I—” Rick couldn’t complete the phrase. He was choking on fluids, blood or spit or tears, he couldn’t tell.

“Philip, stop. You’ll kill him. Stop.”

The kicks ceased. Rick moved the arm over his head to see Philip standing over a kneeling Frank, the gun pointed at his head, execution style.

“Get him and get out of here.” Philip sneered. “And don’t let me ever see either of you again.”

Rick watched Frank crawl over to his space. He felt his partner’s left arm slide under his armpit. The pain in his side became excruciating as he was half lifted to a standing position. Philip had broken one of his ribs. Maybe several, Rick thought. But he could breathe. He was alive.