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Holy shit.
I glance between them and the street, my heart hammering.
“Where’s Shem?” Angel asks.
“Fuck knows,” I snap, freaked out by the noise and the increasing probability of the cops descending on us. “Let’s go.”
“We’re going, but what about that guy? Goddammit, J, you had one job.”
“Not to let you get caught,” I snarl, turning to see a guy crossing the street, engrossed in texting on his phone. “He’s nobody. Hasn’t even seen us.”
“So you say.” Angel nods at Dec and another guy, Jorge. “Get him.”
Fuck.
“No, Jesus, don’t!” I find myself running after Angel’s thugs, shouting at the guy to go. “Go away!” I shout at him. “Run!”
He looks up and freezes. Then he finally catches on and starts to run.
By the time I reach him, the other two are already there, punching and kicking at him.
“Gimme the gun,” Declan shouts at me, but I move out of his reach and yank the poor guy out of their hands.
“Go,” I hiss at him. “Run!”
“What the fuck are yo
u doing?” Declan is on me before you can say ‘asshole,’ and keeping myself between the guy who’s following my advice and getting the hell out of Dodge, and Angel’s gorilla is damn near impossible, especially when he’s joined by his buddy Jorge. “Angel said to get him.”
“Guy hasn’t seen anything. It’s dark.”
But I know my logic doesn’t mean jack to his gnat brain, so I kick him in the leg, and have the satisfaction of seeing him jerk backward, his face going pale. Turning to Jorge, I deliver a flurry of punches to his solar plexus before he can get his hands properly on me. I’m keeping an eye on Declan, cuz I’m damn sure he’s not going down with a kick to his leg unless he has a weakness there I didn’t know about.
Jorge stumbles back, and I turn to Declan just as he bowls into me with an enraged roar. Ready for him, I shift onto my weak leg and knee him in the nuts.
Thanks for the move, Karate Kid.
Hey, Connor used to like the movie.
Now both of them are whimpering, and the guy they were sent to silence is long gone. I bend over slightly, trying to catch my breath, keeping a wary eye on them, anyway.
Holy shit, these guys. They’re complete and total morons. I bet without the gang giving them a direction in life, misguided as it is, they’d be going around hitting each other over the head with clubs and growling like animals.
Angel whistles from a distance. It’s time to blow this joint. I see the gang vanishing in a side street, and hurry after them, followed by a limping Declan and a cursing Jorge. Not that I’m much better myself, favoring my good leg and struggling to move fast, even as I check the street for anyone lurking, for cops arriving.
Quiet. And still I expect a police siren, a cop hollering at us to drop down, a shot to go off. We pile up inside the two cars, and take off into the night.
All clear. We’re so damn lucky.
I know our luck won’t hold out forever. It never does.
The loot is piled in the cars, and Mav and Angel prepare to drive them away to one of the safehouses where the goods will stay until a new deal comes up for selling them.
Mav is checking the bags together with Jorge and Elena. Declan and Alfie are having an argument over who’s going to ride shotgun.
Angel is smoking a joint, the sweet smell making my mouth water. I could use a few drags to calm my frayed nerves, still my shaking hands.
“What the hell happened over there?” Angel glares at me through the curling smoke. He looks older tonight, deep grooves in his forehead and at the corners of his mouth.
