The Gumbo Shop was on St. Peter. There would be collateral damage if I was followed. I looked over my shoulder to see the mismatched car pull to a stop in the street. This wasn’t accidental or coincidental. They were here for me. Beast moved to peer out of my eyes.Fight? Can eat one?
Seeing the car stop, Andromeda cursed and leaned down to press a red button on the side of the cabinet. Even her fingers were tattooed, with musical notes and barbed wire. “Silent alarm,” she said. “The security company will contact the cops and we already have video running.”
“I’m not leaving you here alone,” I said to Andromeda. I sent a fast text to Bruiser, pulled the H&K nine-mil, and joined her behind the counter. The display cases were old-fashioned and though the fronts and tops were glass, the sides and back were constructed of heavy, old wood. I pulled my vamp-killers and placed them on the counter. “You ever fired that sawed-off?”
She looked at me, taking in the golden glow of Beast in my eyes. “You’re Jane Yellowrock.”
Three young men moved toward the shop, their gaits streetwise and threatening. Two of them hid their faces in their navy hoodies and reached into their jeans in a weapon draw. They were older than I’d first thought. Twenty-somethings, not kids. “I am.”
Fight!Beast said.
“This is my daddy’s gun. It’s got a kick, but yeah. I can handle it.” She withdrew a small nine-mil from below the counter too and racked the slide.
“Bloods? Crips?” I asked as the guys moved through the traffic. Behind them horns blared, but the mismatched car didn’t move.
“No one’s seen Crip or Blood for weeks. Word is that the fanghead MOC took them out.” She shot me a glance. She meant my boss. “These are homegrown gangs, filling back in where the national boys used to be. Call themselves the Zips. They paint big navy blueZgraffiti everywhere. They’re looking to make a name for themselves. My brother runs with the Razors, another local gang. This is Raz territory.”
Out front, the young men gathered in a tight grouping, one talking, by his body language giving orders. He was wearing khakis, no hoodie. “This could get messy,” I said.
“No shit, Pollyanna.”
Am Beast. Not Pollyanna.
I chuffed in amusement, showing teeth.
The woman picked up the sawed-off and held it in a one-hand grip, the other hand holding the nine-mil, her feet spread. She knew how to make an impression. The modified barrel looked like a cannon.
The guy in front opened the door. Came in out of the glare, blinking, arm up, gun held in a street-style shooting angle, sideways. With that stance, if he hit us, it would be by accident. Andromeda said, “Stop or die.” When they kept coming, she fired the nine-mil.
CHAPTER 5
I Can’t Shoot a Suspect on the Ground
The round hit the wall at the floor, a deliberate shot. “Next one draws blood,” she said over the ear-blasted dead air left behind.
“Give us the woman,” Khaki Man shouted. His eyes were wide. He hadn’t expected armed resistance. Or getting shot at.
“No,” Andromeda said.
The men spread out in a small semicircle, blocking the front exit, two hoodies on the left, Khaki Man on the right. Andromeda shifted the nine-mil to the man on the far left. “I got the navy jackets. You take out the other one,” she said.
I let Beast flood into me. My heart rate sped. My breathing deepened. I took a breath, smelling testosterone, aggression, and chemicals in their blood. And I caught an unexpected scent.
Of wolf.
The guy in the center fired. Time slowed, that battlefield awareness that showed me the angle of the shot. The blast stole the last of the silence. He missed us both.
Andromeda fired the shotgun. It deafened. Stole the air. Replaced it with a roiling cloud of gunfire residue. The guy in the middle stumbled and fell.
The other hoodie fired.
I firmed my aim. Fired twice. Andromeda dropped the shotgun and fired the nine-mil. All three men were on the floor, one with a large, circular shot pattern on his chest. Messy.
Fun,Beast said.More!
I raced around the counter and disarmed the three guys—even the dead ones—by gently shoving the weapons to the side with my foot. Carefully. People had died by kicking guns and getting shot. Out front, the gang car took off.
“What the hell?” Andromeda shouted, barely heard over the deafness of the gunfight, furious.
