“Shit!” The Volto sprints for the back door and slams his hand against the wood. “Boss! Alarm! We gotta go!”
Shit.
I wasn’t paying attention. I let myself get distracted. With no time to think, I dart in front of the display case and attempt to block Jenni from view as Harris and the other Volto sprint up from the depths of the vault, panting heavily.
“The fuck happened?” Harris barks.
Any explanation is cut off by the sudden distant wail of police sirens. A store like this? They’ll be here in less than a minute.
“We have to go!” I yell, desperately pulling all attention onto me so that the other Volto has no time to deal with Jenni. “Did you get what we came for?”
“Of course I did,” Harris barks, striding past me and snatching the machine gun from my hands. He aims it skyward and fires off a round of shots that keeps everyone down and terrified. “Who the fuck set the alarm?”
Heat lances down my spine, and I scramble for the handgun in my jeans. As I grab it, the sirens grow louder and desperation claws across my chest.
“We don’t have time for that,” I snap. “The cops are almost here. We gotta go!”
“Take a hostage,” one of the Voltos suggests. “They won’t follow us if we’ve got a hostage.”
Harris nods quickly and turns on the spot, scanning every terrified person on the ground. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot the Volto who stayed with me trying to peer past my legs as if looking for Jenni. If she’s taken hostage, they’ll kill her for setting off the alarm. I know they will.
“Take him!” My hand lifts before I’ve even thought everything through, and all eyes follow my pointing to the large, burly man on the floor. “He’s got a pregnant wife so he won’t act out. It’ll be easy.”
A beat of silence passes and Harris lunges past me with his weapon trained on the large man.
“On your feet, asshole,” Harris snarls. “Unless you want that baby delivered right here.”
2
BRADLEY
This is the thanks I get for doing a friend a favor.
Bounded and gagged in the back of a rocking van that stinks of stale piss while three people in creepy carnival masks stare at me from the far end near the doors. I was only meant to observe, which is why I left my driver, Frank, outside. Knowing him, he’ll be tailing this van, ready to intercept as soon as I give him the signal, but for now, I’m observing.
At the very least, I want to go back to Damian with concrete information before I tell him I’m never doing him a personal favor again. And then I’m going to tell the same to Ruslan because it was his damn actions last year that made me think helping a friend out would be a good idea.
Idiot.
This group, whoever they are, definitely has a hierarchy. Two men wearing Volto masks seem to be along for the ride. One’s driving the van and the other sits nearby with his gun dangling loosely from his hand, resting between his spread thighs. The leader is definitely the man in the Bauta mask. That becameclear the moment the Volto mask alerted him about the alarm in the store.
And then there’s the Arlecchino mask. A woman is my best guess, given her short stature and the hint of curves under the blue boiler suit they all wear.
The masks prove this group is the same group that’s been raiding Bradley’s stores up and down the city, disturbing the very precious underground gemstone market that Damian and his family have spent decades crafting. Given the messy nature of the robberies, I’m convinced we’re dealing with independent idiots and not any other family trying to move in on Damian’s turf. That would be more trouble than it’s worth and the rest of the Suit would be involved in a heartbeat.
“He’s just staring,” remarks the Volto mask suddenly. “The fuck is wrong with him?”
“I’d be the same,” the Bauta mask replies. “We snatched him from his wife.” He stands and slowly walks toward me, maintaining his balance with a wide stance until he’s almost on top of me. Then he kicks at my boot. “I bet you’re imagining all the terrible things you want to do to us because we threatened your wife, right?” He lowers himself down onto his haunches until we’re eye level. “And she’s the exact reason you won’t lift a finger.”
Why they think that pregnant woman is my wife is beyond me. Maybe it’s because I was protecting her and somehow, that’s translated into us knowing one another. I won’t correct him, though. it’s not worth it, and the gag prevents me from speaking. Despite this, I steadily meet his gaze.
“Leave him alone,” comes the robotic scratch from the Arlecchino mask. “He’s here to keep the cops off us, and given the lack of sirens, it’s working.”
My attention shifts to her, fading the Bauta mask into the background. She’s not like the others. From the moment she entered the store, she lacked the same casual air they have, from the uncertain way she held her gun to the way she tried to hide the woman under the display case from view. Out of the four of them, she’s the least willing to cause harm, which means she’s my target if I can’t get out of this myself.
“So?” Bauta replies. “You realize that means he can’t do anything, not thatIcan’t do anything. Because you know, don’t you?” Bauta’s hand suddenly grabs my jaw, jerking my attention back onto me.
His fingertips dig painfully into the hinge of my jaw, but I force myself to remain passive and disinterested. A little pain is hardly a threat.
