With Fire & Fury || Dean Winchester

33. Back-up Plan.

*Dean POV.* 

Breaking into Bela's room was easier than it should have been. It surprised Dean just how easy it was for him and Riley to break in, hide, and for Dean to surprise Bela as she walked into the room by pinning her to the door at gun point. Bela's face didn't show shock or surprise, though. Only false confidence and perhaps a hint of fear. But Dean knew better than to fall for her tricks.

"Where's the colt?" Dean demanded, keeping his voice low.

"Dean," Bela gasped.

"No extra words."

"It's long gone," Bela said. "Across the world by now."

"You're lying," Dean growled, pulling the gun away from her. He pulled at her coat, inspecting the pockets.

"I'll call the buyer," Bela said, reaching for her phone. "Speak Farsi?" She gasped as Dean gripped her waist and yanked her towards him. "What the hell are you.."

"Don't flatter yourself," Dean said impatiently, holding up the gun he'd taken from her person. "I'm spoken for." He used the gun to turn on the light as he backed away from Bela. "Don't move, or she shoots." He gestured to Riley, who played her part by keeping her gun aimed at Bela.

"And I won't be aiming for your shoulder," Riley narrowed her eyes.

Dean didn't have time to comment on his pride for Riley right now. He'd be sure to show her just how proud he was when they got the colt back. Instead, he began searching through Bela's personal belongings, including the drawers.

"I told you, I don't have it," Bela said.

"Oh, yeah. We're definitely gonna take your word for it," Dean scoffed as he searched another drawer. He opened two more when the sound of a gunshot and a sharp gasp made him spin around.

"I believe he said don't move," Riley said. "Final warning."

Dean glanced at the bullet hole left in the door, just inches from Bela's head. He sure was glad he was on Riley's side right now. She may not be as skilled as him with a gun, but he'd taught her well. She was a damn good shot. He resumed his search, confident that Riley had Bela under control. He pulled a suitcase out from underneath the bed and opened it. No sign of the colt.

"It's gone," Bela said again. "Get on a plane if you must. Track down the buyer. You might catch up to him eventually."

Dean glanced around the room, searching for any hiding places he might have missed. This was his last hope. If Bela was telling the truth and the colt was gone, Dean was doomed. All he had to rely on was a deal that he wasn't even sure was totally legitimate. In his rage, Dean walked over to Bela and aimed his gun right at her face.

"Are you going to kill me?" She asked, straightening her back.

"Oh, yeah," Dean nodded.

"You're not the cold-blooded type," Bela's voice softened. Dean almost believed she was genuine.

"You mean like you?" Dean raised a brow. "See, I couldn't imagine killing my parents."

He had to give Bela credit where credit was due. She had a damn good poker face. "I don't know what you're talking.."

"Yes, you do," Dean cut her off. "You were, what, fourteen? Your folks die in some shady car accident, police suspected a slashed brake line, but it was all too crispy to tell. Cut to little Bela, I'm sorry, Abbie, inheriting millions."

This time, Bela's face betrayed her nonchalance. Her eyes widened just enough for Dean to know he'd hit his mark.

"How did you even.."