Page 33 of Damien’s Mate

Damien pulled himself up. The top of the wall was flat and he rose to his knees, pulling the bag of money around so it covered his chest. All that cash should be as good protection as Kevlar.

“There they are!” someone yelled. A bullet whined past him. Damien pulled off his belt and wrapped it around the ledger, buckling it tight so the book couldn’t open.

“Cover my legs,” he said, and rose to his feet. Lila held her go bag in front of his crotch. He was glad to see they agreed on which body parts were the most important.

There was a pitched battle going on in the front yard and the street, Russians vs. Italians. In the dim light, he couldn’t tell which one was Rizzio.

Damien yelled, “Hey! Rizzio! You want the fucking ledger?” A shadowy figure whirled to face his direction, and Damien watched the man’s gun coming around as if in slow motion.

Holding the end of his belt, he swung the ledger around and around like a lasso, and then let it go. It rose through the air in a high arc, going in for a landing right in the middle of the gunfight.

He saw Rizzio hesitate, glancing between Damien and the book, and then dash for the place where it was going to land. Half a dozen other guys converged on him.

This was going to be a blood bath.

Ducking stray bullets, Damien slithered off the wall and grabbed Lila’s hand. A city bus was headed for a stop half a block away.

Maybe they wouldn’t have to jack a car after all. “Come on,” he yelled to Lila.

He thought his knee was going to come apart, but he made it to the stop just as the bus pulled up, the driver staring at the shootout going on in the next block. Damien stood, one foot on the stairs and one on the sidewalk, so the driver couldn’t leave until Lila made it to the door.

He pulled her bodily up the steps and then swiped his bus pass. “Turn down the side street,” he said to the driver. “And get the hell out of here. There’s a damn gang war going on up there.”

Damien stood, holding onto one of the commuter handles, but Lila dropped into the nearest seat. She felt sick and dizzy. Besides the throbbing pain in all her broken bones, she felt like she’d torn something inside her.

Again.

She bit her lips, focusing on not passing out until some of the pain subsided.

The bus had moved out of the residential area to one of the main streets, the driver talking softly into his radio while giving her and Damien sidelong glances. She had a feeling he knew they’d been part of the shootout. They needed to get off this bus before the cops came and stopped it.

Damien must have had the same thought, because he was watching the passing buildings intently. A minute later he reached up and pulled the cord for an unscheduled stop.

The bus driver hesitated, and Damien fixed him with a scary Mafia-guy look, moving so the driver could ‘accidentally’ get a glimpse of his holstered gun. “Let us off. Believe me, everybody will be happier.”

The bus driver nodded and pulled over. Lila struggled to her feet, gasping with pain, and then Damien’s arm came around her, helping her down the stairs and across the sidewalk.

“In here,” he said.

In front of her were two huge carved wooden doors, flanked by frosted glass panels. A uniformed doorman sprang forward to open the door for them.

They were at the Grand Riviera Hotel.

As they walked into the old-fashioned marble-floored lobby, Lila started to giggle.

Damien gazed down at her, obviously trying to look offended. “What? I promised you a fancy hotel.”

“We can’t stay here—the bus driver can tell everyone where we went.”

“I know. Come this way.” He led her across the lobby, still with his arm around her. He was moving slowly too—his knee was probably hurting like hell. The idea of them limping across the lobby with their stolen cash and priceless artifacts, like a ninety-year-old Bonnie and Clyde, made her start giggling again.

“Stop that,” Damien muttered. “Everyone’s going to think you’re drunk.”

That just made her giggle even more. She knew she was lightheaded from her injuries—and giggling made them hurt worse—but she couldn’t seem to stop.

At the back of the lobby was a quiet, carpeted hallway that led to a bunch of empty conference rooms. Damien pushed open a door. It was dark inside, but Damien walked straight in.

Motion-sensor lights went on. It was the ladies’ restroom.