This answer pissed Ruehl off even more. However, what they both knew was that he would not pull the trigger. It is that realization that puts the wielder of the gun in a bad spot.

“You aren’t going to shoot me are you? Why?” Jacobs started to compose himself.

“And why wouldn’t I? I want answers DAMMIT!” He pressed the concave barrel ending of the Eagle into Jacob’s sweaty temple. His head and neck tilted over and Ruehl lost his balance a bit. Just enough for Jacobs to sweep the exposed leg and send Ruehl down to the floor.

“Funny thing about holding a gun to someone’s head,” getting on top of Ruehl with unexpected quickness, “unless you shoot, you have played all your cards!”

“Huh? What?” Ruehl was pinned, Jacob’s knee behind his head, his other knee on the back of his weapon arm. The Desert Eagle, which Ruehl could see down at the end of his immobilized right arm, looked useless. The damned thing was so heavy and bulky he couldn’t even tilt it up towards his adversary.
“Give me that!” Jacobs said.