A stiff leg kicked the bathroom door open. It swung so hard it came off the hinges and slammed into the side of the tube.
Dzinski would have flinched, if he hadn’t been expecting it.
He did flinch when the handgun exploded from behind the door. Six rounds that would have gone right through him went over the sink and shattered the bathroom window instead.
His throat knotted and his vision narrowed. He waited to hear a second shoe settle against the linoleum tile and then kicked the bathroom door closed.
Bright red blood sprayed against the far wall. Something grunted. Then hit the floor.
Dzinski tightened the towel around his waist and stepped out the tub.
The weapon lay there, inches away from curled fingers. He swore at himself and bent down to pick it up. The magazine held five more rounds. Dzinski dropped the pistol and clip in the sink and pulled the door open.
The cutthroat was unconscious, so Dzinski didn’t think he’d mind another kick to the face.