"Over there!" she gasped, bending forward. "In the drawer of the cabinet."
He let her go and went to the cabinet. She hadn't lied. The slugs rolled forward as he pulled out the drawer. He scooped them up and fitted them into the gun. When he turned around she was still rubbing her arm, staring at him with frightened eyes.
"What are you going to do?" she whimpered.
"I'm not going to sneak out of here and let your boy friend shoot me down with this rod planted on me. Just how much would you be willing to bet this is the murder weapon the cops are looking for?"
"What are you going to do with it?"
"I'm going to trade with Mario when he gets tired waiting out there and comes back inside. Guns or bullet, baby, there's going to be a swap."
"No!" she cried. "No, Cassidy. No more killing." She moved close to him, swiftly, imploringly. "Mario's coming back for you. That's the truth. You must believe me, you have a chance to get out of here with your life. Take it while you still have it. That's all that matters now. You're right about the gun; it's the one. I knew you'd find out sooner or later. That's why I wanted you to have it, to put an end to all this rottenness. Take it or leave it, it doesn't really matter so much, only get out of here before Mario gets back."
"Who're you really worried about?" Fleetwood asked. "Mario or me? Or do you know yourself?"
"Why should it matter so long as you stay alive? If you don't go you'll only be engraving your own tombstone. Mario won't give you a chance. He's probably got you spotted from outside right now."