I tuck the pistol away and run a hand through my hair. This whole thing has got me spooked. No doubt about that. I’d be a fool not to be aware of the danger. It’s why I’m so worried about Andy, after all. This is a dangerous game she’s playing. These men are killers.
I turn back to face the road ahead, sinking my hands into my pockets as I walk. I’m probably not being smart about this either right now. I should’ve taken the car back to the apartment, but I sent the driver ahead while I took in some air. It’s been a while since I got in some exercise and my muscles are protesting at the inactivity. Maybe it’ll be a good idea to have my next meeting with Raoul at the gym. We can work out while we plan. It’s been too long since our last training session and I’m going to get rusty – at a time when I should be honing those skills.
A vehicle rumbles behind me and I step further onto the curb to let it go by. It’s quiet at this time of night, but the occasional car has passed me. This one doesn’t pass, though. It comes up closer, engine idling. I spin to face it just in time to see the van pull up alongside me. A side panel door is open, and a pair of big fuckers leap out. All in black, wearing masks; no guessing what they’re here for.
Ah, fuck!
The element of surprise gives one of them an opening to wrap his arms around me from behind, while the other advances on me from the front, trying to get a hood over my head. I use the guy behind me as a pivot, swinging my knees up and kicking out with both feet. I connect with his chest with enough force to knock him flying backward.
Meanwhile, I slam my head back as hard as I can. There’s a muffled curse as my skull hits the bastard behind me in the face. Something crunches, and I’m pretty sure I’ve broken his nose. He doesn’t release me, but it’s enough to loosen his hold. I grab his wrist and spin around to free myself, twisting his arm up behind him. He struggles, fighting to swing a fist at me. I respond by hauling his wrist up. Something pops and he screams and goes limp just as the first guy charges back at me.
The idiot has an arm outstretched, clutching a pistol. But he’s not firing yet, which means he’s probably hoping to get this done without drawing attention. Waving the damn gun around like a flag is a goddamn rookie move, and I take advantage immediately. I drop, tuck, and roll, ducking beneath his arm and catching him under the elbow. His arm hikes up into the air and he lets off a round as I sweep his legs out from under him, bending his elbow back in the wrong direction. I hear that crack too as he goes to the ground, and I figure whoever sent them is going to be spending a fortune on titanium pins for the foreseeable future.
While he lies there, writhing, the passenger door swings open, and a third guy gets out. The driver has the engine running and I see him twist his head to get a look at what’s going on as the passenger barrels toward me. Nobody else is getting out from the back.
Well now, there’s their next mistake.
Sending just four guys to take me down? I’m betting they didn’t expect to be outnumbered by one man. The new guy is running at me with a weapon. As he fires a shot at the ground beside me, it occurs to me that he’s no longer worried about drawing attention. But he’s also not shooting directly at me. They don’t want me dead. Though when another slug whines by, slicing through the flesh of my thigh, I’m pretty sure they’ll take me in bleeding.
“Get in the van,” he snarls, jerking the muzzle of the weapon in that direction. I narrow my eyes on him, watching him warily as he takes a bead on my chest. He jerks the gun again, finger curling on the trigger. It’s a bluff. He’s not supposed to kill me – I’m pretty sure of it now.
I take a sidestep in the direction of the open door. Though if he actually believes I’m getting in there, he’s more stupid than I thought. I take another step, then feint to the right, before launching myself forward. I hear a shot go over my head, but he’s aiming in the direction he thought I was going. When my arms wrap around his waist, both of us go down hard. Lucky for me, he bears the brunt of it, though I feel my wrist twist painfully beneath him as we land.
Shit.That’s going to hurt in the morning. Especially since I don’t have the luxury of favoring it now; I need both hands for this fucker. I release the hold around his ribs and get a forearm under his chin. I can feel the bone of my arm grinding against his windpipe and his breath rasps out painfully. It’s enough to give me the advantage I need to knock the gun from his grasp with my free hand. He bucks beneath me, trying to get my weight off his chest, but I keep the pressure on his throat, making it hard for him to draw breath.
A sound from nearby alerts me to the fact that the driver is out now. Three heavy footfalls lead up to a searing pain in my ribs as he lands a heavy kick to my side. Before I can roll out of the way, it’s followed by another, and I feel something crack.
Fuck!
He’s still kicking as I spin over and get a grip on his ankle, but the other guy is back on his feet. I turn just in time to see the heel of his boot descend. And then I’m fighting to blink away stars. Stars which morph strangely into flashing blue lights as I squint up at him. Suddenly they’re backing off. The blue doesn’t go away. And then it’s joined by a metallic-sounding voice cutting through the night.
“Get your hands in the air!” someone yells.
Cops! Thank fuck!
Never thought I’d be pleased to see this lot, especially considering where I’ve just come from…Prism is practically Mob Central. But my attackers scatter, gathering up their fallen comrades. I can still hear the police issuing warnings over the loudhailer, but these guys aren’t sticking around. Doors slam and the engine revs. There’s a warning shot fired, but that doesn’t deter them. The assholes are getting the hell out of here.
I roll over onto my side, then wish I hadn’t because I’m pretty certain now that my ribs are broken. But it’s hard to focus. The flashing blue lights are getting mixed up with the white light of the blinding pain in my skull. I hear more footsteps as a patrolman runs up to me.
“Buddy…you okay there?”
They’re the last words I hear before everything goes blank.
∞∞∞
“Well, look at that. Sleeping Beauty’s up,” I hear as I pull myself groggily from oblivion. I peel my eyes open and fight to focus on the face swimming over me. Another one joins it. Two dark heads, amused features. Raoul is grinning at me, the motherfucker.
“How you doing, bro?” Dario asks. I twist my head, trying to get my bearings. Pale cream walls. The metal rail of a bed. Banks of equipment. Antiseptic stench.
Hospital.
Goddammit.
“What the fuck?” I croak out.
“They got you to Emergency. Moved you to a room barely an hour ago,” says Dario, and I notice there are no curtains drawn around my bed. He and Raoul must’ve organized a private room. “Someone reported gunshots. Patrol car got there pretty quick and called it in. Raoul’s guys keep tabs on incidents that happen so close to the club. They picked it up and let him know. When he got the description and realized you hadn’t taken your car, he put two and two together. Luckily, you were just around the corner. He got to you just as the ambulance did.”
I brace my arms, struggling to push myself up, but something feels like a lead weight on my chest. My wrist screams at the movement. I flex it gingerly. There’s range of motion despite the pain. Not broken, thank God. Sprained, though.
