“We’ll get them,” David said, as the driver sped up the van and rushed us back. “Do you see him or his cousins?”
I continued to stand on the passenger side. “I only see mannequins, with bras and panties on them.”
“I know. It’s starting to distract me.” David grinned. “Let’s check in on Pavel. Perhaps your mouse is back.”
“Yes. She has to be.”
She’s too clever to stay anywhere she doesn’t want to be.
David coughed into his hand. “Jean-Pierre’s probably out of here and running away.”
“Good.” Calm came. “We’re almost done.”
And then a large mannequin torpedoed in our direction, slammed into the van, and stayed on the hood. It wore a velvet gown outlined in feathers.
Jean-Pierre. You fucking pervert.
“What the fuck?!” The driver swerved, trying to continue his path forward as the mannequin blocked his view.
Somewhere in front of us, Jean-Pierre screamed, “Lion!”
I pointed my gun in that direction. “Where are you, Jean-Pierre? Say one more thing.”
Another mannequin crashed into my door.
I fell out of the moving van and crashed onto the floor. My kneecaps cracked. Not broken, but it would be difficult to run. I bit through the agony and rolled to the left. Motherfucker! My arm and side exploded with pain.
I looked ahead of me.
The van screeched several feet in front of me, swerved to the side, and slammed into a wall. The guy manning the mounted gun fell off the van’s top.
Glass shattered near them. I jumped up from the ground and limped forward, ready to shoot anybody that jumped out.
Footsteps sounded further up.
The panty store. Of course. That should have been my first guess with you.
“Come on!” I raced that way.
David jumped out of the van. Rage covered his face. “I’m going to kill him. I liked that goddamn van.”
“He’s in there. The store with the bras.” I smiled. “If he’s throwing mannequins, then he’s out of bullets.”
Three of our men jumped out of the vans, and followed with their guns.
This ends today.
We came close to the store.
And then Jean-Pierre popped up near a bunch of bras, and launched another mannequin our way.
I jumped to the side.
It smashed into the wall on my right.
I winked. “There you go.”
Jean-Pierre slung another one. It crashed to the ground in front of me.
Terror hit Jean-Pierre’s voice. “Rafael!”
“Yeah?” The other idiot popped out near a display of panties holding his own mannequin.
Hey, fellas.
Slower than I wanted, I raced their way. My legs burned. My kneecaps seared in pain.
“Rafael!” Jean-Pierre widened his eyes. “Run!”
“Shit!” Rafael dropped the mannequin and ran away.
“You better run!” I pointed and shot.
Missed and shot again.
Boiling anger flooded my veins “Come on. Die already.”
They scattered off within the shadows of the store. Probably hiding under racks of panties.
My mouse said you had dignity. Why not die with it?
I would find them.
This would end today.
The lingerie store was massive. I figured it would be easier to catch them, but as soon as we rounded the corner several feet, more bras and panties awaited. David and his men shoved racks away, like soldiers would chop through a jungle chasing after the enemy.
They were out of bullets, and we had many to spare.
We shot out. Hangers of panties and lace stockings swung back and forth, but no perfumed pansy in sight.
The lights shattered, blinking off and on.
“You’re in here. I smell your sweet little scent.” I shoved a rack of socks down. It crashed to the floor. “Do you smell as good when your gut is opened up?”
One of my men shot the head off a mannequin, probably thinking it was Jean-Pierre. Bits of mannequins splattered. Dust thickened the air.
Outside of the store, more people shouted and screamed. Police sirens blared. Even more people were shooting. Tires screeched. Someone else was driving in the mall.
Focused on killing Jean-Pierre, I hit the next section of the store. “You just couldn’t let me get my mouse. You had to continue to cause trouble”
Sleepwear and beauty products filled the shelves in this area.
David got to my side. “What do we do?”
“Let’s separate.” I pointed to the left. “Go there first. Get the funny one. Rafael. Leave Jean-Pierre to me.”
David headed off with one guy.
Two men followed me.
Movement came from the right.
I gestured to them. “Check that way.”
They raced off in that direction.
Ready for blood, I crept forward with my gun out. My heart boomed in my ears. More sweat trickled, dripping into my left eye. I wiped at it.
Someone grabbed me from behind wrapping their arm around my neck.
Jean-Pierre.
I pushed my weight back, taking us both to the ground. His hold loosened.
I roared and turned to him. “There you go.”
“Fuck you!”
I charged. He ducked but wasn’t fast enough. Perhaps on his best day with a little bit more rest, he could have avoided me. But like me, he hadn’t slept and my mouse had been knocking him around.
Did you give him those bumps on his head, mouse? I’ll finish him for you.
We wrestled on the ground.
Somehow I still held my gun.
Although exhausted, Jean-Pierre was still a fast bastard. It was hard to keep a hold on him. All I needed was one good aim without shooting us both. I grabbed his ear, angled his face down, and tried to rip the ear out of its roots. He punched me in the gut. I smashed his head into the ground. Blood appeared at his nose.
Not out yet, he rammed his knee into my chest.
His shirt ripped under my grip, as I dragged him forward.
Come the fuck on!
He resisted with violent elbows to my gut. I ax kicked and he upper cut. My jacket tore. Jean-Pierre spun, trying to break my grip. Not fast enough, I yanked him forward and he slammed down on my arm.
Fuck.
The pain was sudden and excruciating. He might have broken it.
My gun fell away.
It slipped and stopped three feet away.
No! I won’t die by this idiot’s hands.
We both struggled to charge for the gun at once. Stabbing and attacking. Beating and slamming. Biting and kneeing. When he attacked, I defended. When I struck, he barreled through it. And then somehow, we untangled. I rolled to the right into a robe display. He fell back into a shelf. It crashed to the floor.
We both caught our breaths for a second and then dove for the gun again, slamming into each other.
Displays of perfumed lotion fell on top of us. Blue cream spilled onto me. White powder blanketed him. I was sure we looked like a bunch of clowns—grappling in soaked beauty products.
This fight between us. It had been a brutal beating. I was close to passing out. He looked near to falling into a coma My bones and ribs ached. Blood dripped down my head and mingled with sweat, and that blue cream.
But there was no point dwelling on pain.
Mysh? Did I buy you time?
I didn’t know if I’d given her seconds to avoid him, but Jean-Pierre’s crew has strengthened their resources.
Shots rang above my head.
Shit!
“Kazimir!” David raced my way. Eyes widened when he saw me, and yelled, “Run!”
As he sped off in the other direction.
Run?
Covered in white powder, Jean-Pierre stayed on the ground, halfway sitting up, his chest rising and falling fast.
Our gazes met.<
br />
Both despised the other. Rage and fury shot back and forth between us, like bullets in a horrific battle.
But when he heard the roar of motorbikes, Jean-Pierre grinned at me.
More shots came my way.
Fuck! No more time for you, butcher.
Limping a little, I leapt forward, grabbed the gun, and ran away from the enemy for the first time in many years.
No time for Jean-Pierre anymore. I have to get Emily and leave. Where are you, mouse?
Tons of bikers zoomed through the store. Lumpingly more than sprinting away, I glanced over my shoulder and shouldn’t have. It had been a long time since I ran, but here, I did. So many bikers chased David, his men, and me.
While I could probably grab one or two off their bikes, and sling them to the side. Ten bikers with guns verses me bruised, tired, and possibly out of bullets would fuck me up. It didn’t appear to be a fair match anymore.
“Let’s lead them to the vans!” I found my energy and sped up.
Hopefully someone was sitting at the vans near the guns.
More bikers zoomed in.
Far off and behind me, Rafael roared, “You goddamn right, motherfucker! This is our city!”
It won’t be much of a city soon. Trust me on that.
Chapter 14
Emily
They must be done with the exchange.
In the mall, People still ran, but not many. Fires had been started in some places. Shoppers had shifted from running, to looting. Police sirens blared, while mall security cowered with others.
I scanned the chaos within the mall. “What the hell happened?”
Maxwell drove us forward in a golf court. We’d jacked it from a mall security guy who had been hiding behind a plastic tree.
Thank god, Maxwell brought me two extra guns. I gripped one in each hand, knowing that we would need them .
I kept the hood on my head, just in case one of Jean-Pierre’s men spotted me.
Men on motorcycles sped past us with guns.
“Oh hell no.” I shook my head. “Speed up.”
Maxwell slammed his foot down on the pedal. It might’ve gone a little bit quicker, but not much. “This is as fast as it goes.”
“Shit. That has to be Jean-Pierre’s men on those bikes. Follow them.”
“You just stay under that hood, and don’t make it obvious that you have guns.” Maxwell rounded the corner in the direction of the bikers.
It had been a bitch to even get inside the mall. Police and military had blocked it off. They were all with the Corsican. And Maxwell had forgotten the location of the movie theater’s entrance, confusing it for store, and leading us right toward two other vans of Frenchman .
Luckily, they hadn’t spotted us.
The cops came next, and still we rushed away.
But it had all been pure luck getting us inside the mall.
We went down an aisle full of beauty products and lingerie stores.
It was pure hysteria and mayhem. People screamed and ran away. The whole place was littered with bags and phones sprawled here and there. Everybody ran off in different directions.
“They’re here. Stop.”
Maxwell pushed his foot on the brakes.
I jumped off.
The bikers turned into some big department store several feet up.
Where are they going?
Shots rang.
“Fuck that.” I ran off. “They better not be shooting at him.”
Maxwell drove the slow cart on my side. “Get your ass back on here. It’s going as fast as you are running.”
Sighing, I climbed back on. He didn’t even need to stop. I pulled out my phone, and dialed Kazimir. He didn’t answer. It wasn’t a good sign.
“Damn it.” I turned to Maxwell. “Give me your phone.”
“Why?”
“I’m calling Jean-Pierre.”
“What?”
“Come on.”
He handed it to me. “You think that’s a good idea?”
“If you come up with better, than tell me it.” I checked his recent calls and dialed the one that didn’t look like a Russian phone number.
“Oh shit.” Maxwell pointed. “Em!”
Kazimir ran out of a store, or I thought it was him. Blue cream covered most of his face and body. There was some pink glittery gunk on the bottom of his pants. At least four other guys ran with them.
Baby?
My phone rang.
I almost forgot I had it by my ear.
Maxwell slammed his foot on the pedal, but again we trotted along in the cart.
And then men on bikes swerved out of the store and rushed toward Kazimir’s way.
No you motherfucking didn’t.
Jean-Pierre answered on the other line. “Yes?”
I screamed into the phone. “Call the bikers back!”
Slowly, the golf cart headed toward the store opening. I nudged Maxwell and pointed to the entrance. There Jean-Pierre stood, running his fingers through his hair and holding the phone. While Kaz was coated in blue liquid, Jean-Pierre had white powder all over him.
Maxwell maneuvered the golf cart near a kiosk and parked, probably seeing the van full of French near the store.
Holding the phone, Jean-Pierre scanned the space, knowing I must be near. “Where are you, friend?”
I got out and aimed my gun his way. “Close enough to shoot your fucking head off.”
“Prove it.”
I targeted his foot and pulled the trigger. A shot rang out by his foot but didn’t hit him. He jumped.
Maxwell pulled out the Ak-47 and gestured to the van. “Let me know, Em.”
I held my hand up.
From the van, Louis had come out of the passenger side and yelled something at Jean-Pierre.
Meanwhile, the bikers were still rushing after Kazimir.
Jean-Pierre left my view. While he hadn’t looked my way, he ducked behind a large shelf.
That’s okay. I still have sight of your lover’s head.
I pointed to a woman near the van. She was staring at Jean-Pierre with love and fear in her eyes. I could tell she wouldn’t get on that van without him.
I aimed at her head.
Don’t play with me. I’ve got your bitch.
“Do it, Jean-Pierre.” My finger shook on the trigger. “Tell them to leave him alone.”
Jean-Pierre glanced over his shoulder and yelled at Louis. “Call the bikers off the Lion!”
I blew out a long breath.
Someone honked several times inside the van. It was probably Louis.
Off in the distance, the bikers swerved, stopped chasing Kazimir, and turned around.
He was far away, but I could tell he stopped running and had looked around, probably wondering what made them leave. And then Kazimir limped away and turned the corner.
“Damn. They did it.” Maxwell lowered the AK-47. “We’re going to get out of here.”
I kept my gun on Jean-Pierre’s chick, and continued to hold my phone with the other hand.
Jean-Pierre spoke on the line. “The bikers are off your lion. Are we good, Mouse?”
My voice held an edge. “Only he can call me that.”
The bikers zoomed back.
“Are we good for now, Emily?”
“Are you going to let us leave France safely?”
“That’s an important question. Kazimir has men on the way in planes. I plan to shoot them down. Perhaps, you can convince him to turn them around and keep you both out of France.”
My stomach twisted. I moved my gun’s target from his chick, and put it right back on his head.
There you go.
Jean-Pierre had left the shelf and headed to the van.
Kazimir was off and far away.
I could shoot him.
Maxwell could probably spray down everyone in the van.
But could we get out? No. Probably not. These French guys are like roaches. And who knows how many more cousins h
e has.
Still, I kept the gun aimed at his head. “Jean-Pierre, I don’t want a war. I can do my best to—”
“Do your best. If he comes for me, I’ll come for him. For now, get the fuck out of France.”
I let out a long breath. “What happens next?”
“Meaning?”
“Don’t come for Kazimir.”
“This is interesting.” Jean-Pierre turned in the direction that I was standing.
I ducked back.
He stared straight my way. “I know you have a gun pointed to my head, even though I can’t see you. There’s a heaviness to your voice.”
“Hurry, Jean-Pierre.” My finger shook at the trigger. “I’m starting to rethink not killing you.”
“Thanks for not taking me out. You definitely have the shot. I’m glad you’re not going to take it.” He continued to stare my way. “It looks like we’ve become friends after all.”
Friends my ass.
I gritted my teeth. “Don’t come for Kazimir.”
“Friends don’t kill friends.” He smiled. “Make sure your lion knows that. You get safe passage out of France, and I promise to not bother the Bratva again, unless its warranted.”
I lowered the gun. My words came out shaky. “I can’t make Kazimir do anything—”
“You can and you will.” Jean-Pierre put his back to me, left the store, got to the van door and opened it.
My chance of shooting him was gone.
I watched him climb into the van. “I can’t promise—”
“You can. I’ll give you time.” Jean-Pierre’s voice lowered. “Tame the Lion.”
And then, he hung up.
The van sped the other way.
Tears spilled from my eyes.
Finally, I was going to get to Kazimir. It had taken a war and fighting, and escape. Kidnaping and even a few jackings, but I would be in his arms soon.
Not wanting to get on that slow ass golf cart again, I ran off, limping the whole time.
Maxwell got to my side and took his phone back. He must’ve dialed someone because seconds later he yelled into the phone. “Behind you. Yes! We’re safe!”
And then Kazimir appeared, rounding the corner and racing my way. Those cold eyes pierced me. I hadn’t seen him look this deadly since the first time I met him.
“Mysh!”
“Right here!” Adrenaline ignited in my limbs. I was rejuvenated. My speed picked up. And his did too. And in minutes, we crashed into each other. And he lifted me up above the ground, holding me so tight.
Dirty Minds: The Lion and The Mouse (Book 4) Page 16
