“Bratva,” Pantera whispered in dismay. “Oh hell, no.”
“Shit.” Bodie struggled with it.
“We can’t let them take my family, Guy!” Pantera was highly emotional. “We can’t!”
Bodie stared Cassidy in the eye. “We won’t. You ready, Cass?”
“Hell yeah.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Bodie broke cover, racing toward the back of the rearmost SUV, Cassidy and Pantera alongside. They were all dressed darkly and were able to pass without the driver’s notice at first. Bodie saw the front door of the house kicked wide open and hanging from its hinges, another declaration that the Bratva cared little about exposure. No alarm bells were ringing. He didn’t mention it aloud—it wasn’t the time or the place to berate Pantera—but wondered where his old friend’s head was at, not instructing his family on basic security measures. Then again, maybe Steph had just refused all Pantera’s advice on principle.
Four men were already in the house. A scream sounded, a woman’s high-pitched cry of fear. By the time Bodie reached the next SUV the other four men were inside and the two drivers had spotted them.
He ran straight at the first driver, wrenching the man’s arm. Turning, he pulled until the man fell away headfirst into the street. Bodie was on him again in less than a second as Cassidy raced by, going for the second driver. Bodie struck hard, twice, rabbit punches to the back of the man’s neck. Pantera ran by and caught Bodie’s eye.
“Jack. No!”
But there was no stopping him. Pantera ran straight for the battered front door.
“Shit.”
Bodie rammed his opponent’s skull into the ground until he moved no more, then scrambled up, took the keys from the ignition, and checked on Cassidy. Her opponent was big with arms like brick pillars crisscrossed with veins. He was big, but he was slow. Cassidy could duck under his punches to deliver her own swift, stinging jabs. She was wearing him down, but he was still standing. It would take time for her to neutralize him.
Time neither Jack nor his family could afford to lose.
Bodie signaled to Cassidy that he was going after Pantera. Cassidy nodded and increased her efforts. She took a heavy blow from the big man’s clenched fist, shrugged it off, and managed to repay the strike with two well-placed punches of her own, one to her opponent’s sternum and the other to his exposed throat. He fell, retching.
Bodie approached the front door recklessly, feeling less the careful, renowned thief and closer to a CIA special agent. What the hell was he supposed to be these days, anyway? Partially he felt guilty for creating this horrific situation, and partially he wanted to hurt Pantera for letting it all go this far. He was sure he’d heard somewhere that you were supposed to challenge yourself with new and difficult situations, place yourself outside your comfort zone.
But this?
As he reached the front door he realized that some of these men might know his face. Surely, they would have been briefed. Would he then also be a target?
Inside, a dark vestibule led to a large kitchen with a central breakfast bar. The light switches were right next to him but Bodie preferred the dark. He stole quickly across the room, entering a hallway. All the noise was coming from upstairs. The banister rails began to appear one by one to his left and he saw the boots, then the legs of someone rushing up.
Cassidy appeared at his back, tapping his shoulder to signal all was well.
Bodie kept caution to a maximum, checking the rooms on the lower level. It was Jack Pantera who’d taught him to ensure there was never an enemy at his back. Now the man was up there and struggling to save his family judging from what Bodie could hear. By the time Bodie and Cassidy had swept the lower level there was movement on the stairs.
“Wait! Wait! What the hell are you doing? I kept up my end of the bargain.”
“Bargain?” Pantera’s wife, Steph, could be heard crying. “What bargain? What have you done to us, Jack?”
“Nothing! It’s these Russian assholes. They . . .”
Jack grunted as though someone had punched him. Knees hit the wooden floor directly above Bodie’s head.
Sneaking a glance out of the front room, Bodie saw two men descending the stairs.
“Be ready for these two, Cass. They have semiautos.”
“We did all right in Olympia and all those other places. We can’t just let this happen.”
Bodie had no intention of doing so. “We do it the best way we know how.”
Cassidy grabbed his arm. “There’s a kid involved.”
“Don’t you think I know that?”
Bodie waited for an opportunity. He was at ground level, way below their eyeline. When the first man set foot on the ground floor he could see Pantera struggling at the top of the stairs, his family behind him. Burly men stood all around, guns pointed menacingly.
“Get down the goddamn stairs,” one snarled with a heavy accent.
Bodie scanned the usual assortment of faces. Hard and cold and vicious, void of anything that might be called sentiment. These were men who had killed their whole lives and forgotten how to be essentially human.
“Change of plan,” he admitted to Cassidy. “Finesse isn’t gonna work.”
“Duh.”
Cassidy fell down alongside him, scanning the hallway. The space to the right led to another door—a utility room and a side exit that she knew led to the garage. A peek through the window revealed a car sat inside—a family Chevy which again, she knew, had no chance of outrunning the Russians. The options weren’t promising. They sure as hell couldn’t outgun their enemy in a closed environment.
But across the street . . . ?
She knew it was a hell of a risk, but saw no alternative. There was no easy or quiet way out of this. “Bodie,” she said. “Create fucking mayhem, ’cause otherwise—we’re all dead.”
She knew instinctively they had to let the entire group come downstairs. To force them back up would create an impossible bottleneck and then a desperate battle, because there was no real escape, and Pantera, or his family, would be in even more danger. She used the time they had spare to whisper into Bodie’s ear.
Not sweet nothings.
More like ruthless affronts.
When the last man came down, pushing Pantera’s wife from behind, Cassidy waited a moment and then slid out of the darkness. She was a creeping, toxic shadow, bringing mortality to those who sought to force it upon others. The last man never saw her coming, so intent was he on pushing Pantera’s wife in the small of her back, so intent was he on causing her discomfort.
When his boot raised for an unnecessary kick, Cassidy slipped her arm around his throat and choked him out. As he fell she caught his gun. When he hit the floor she let his skull bounce off the heavy oak planking.
Pantera’s wife whirled around, gasped.
Up ahead, another man turned to check on the progress of his comrades and saw her.
Bodie made as much noise as he could, breaking windows in the living room, smashing the TV, the mirrors, and the French windows. He also shouted, “Police!” for good measure, then ran across the hall and caused more havoc.
Cassidy fired above everyone’s head. The Russians turned and sprinted toward the door. Cassidy pulled Pantera’s wife out of the jostling bunch and hurled her toward Bodie.
The Englishman grabbed her before she hit the side wall and pushed a finger upon her lips. “We’re trying to help. Stay here, away from the Bratva.”
She nodded but looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights. Bodie knew there was no way of telling what she would do next.
Cassidy couldn’t bring herself to shoot a man in the back. Instead she grabbed hold of the next Russian and, when he whirled to strike, smashed his head against the plaster wall to the right, creating a huge dent and sending out a plume of dust. Of course, he was Bratva. She didn’t expect him to go down. He was raising his gun once more, shoulders tensed, even as his face ran with blood and his eyes flickered in agony.
She gave no quarter, saw the barrel of his gun, finger tensed on the trigger. She broke the arm at the wrist and tried to wrestle the gun away as he held on and fought and tried not to scream. He pushed her back against the wall as the others escaped. He punched her in the gut as she fought for the gun.
Bodie came up, fired a shot into her opponent’s ribcage. Cassidy grabbed the gun. “Didn’t want to shoot the bastard; just wanted to incapacitate him. Stupid.”
“Today, Cass, it’s kill or be killed. Don’t hesitate.”
She nodded, then ran ahead. Already, she saw Pantera’s wife following them. Of course, she couldn’t blame the woman—the Bratva had her son. Cassidy saw the rearmost Russian turn now and level his weapon. She fired first, spraying him across the shoulders with bullets. He fell back in the hallway, unleashing lead into the ceiling and through the empty floors and roof above.
Guess I’m over my inhibitions, then.
Survival was everything, and these goons still had hold of Pantera and Eric. She saw the next in line, disappearing up ahead—a large Russian pulling Pantera along by the scruff of his jacket. The older man was bleeding profusely and limping, looking like he’d been beaten. Cassidy sprinted, catching up rapidly. The big Russian heard her and let go of Pantera, who sank to his knees. Cassidy hit the Russian with the butt of her rifle, once, then twice across the temple. His head barely moved. The skin split and blood leaked into his eyes, making him blink. Cassidy saw his gun coming up and punched it down, centering on nerve clusters now, because she realized that these meat machines appeared to feel no pain.
The gun kept rising. Cassidy struck as hard as she could, dropping her own weapon in the process. The man’s eyes registered nothing at all, no pain, no fear, no acknowledgment that he fought for his life. A gun went off, the bullet passing Cassidy’s midriff with barely an inch to spare and continuing down the hallway. Bodie flung Steph aside in case there were more. Cassidy resorted to a knee in the groin and a punch to the throat.
Nothing. This wasn’t a man she was fighting—just a slab of unfeeling, unwitting muscle and bone. And all the time, the four other Russians with Eric were getting away.
She found herself forced back against the wall, the mountain pushing her with the bulk of his body, his knee pressing into her stomach, his chest against hers. His gun was wedged between them and she couldn’t move anything but her hands, which she used to pummel and break bone.
The breath was being forced out of her.
Fuck, I’ve never felt anything like this before.
They had been foolish to think they could take the Bratva head-on, that was clear now, but what other choice did they have? She was weakening, and even several point-blank eye punches had barely moved her opponent. He couldn’t see, he could barely breathe, but still he crushed.
Bodie was coming up fast behind, but it was Pantera in his desperation who saved her. Staying on his knees, shuffling across the hall, he located and withdrew the big Russian’s small but wickedly sharp, curved blade and sliced him across the kidneys.
Cassidy saw the strength leave him. She kicked and pushed him away then ran headlong down the now empty corridor, Bodie at her back. She could hear Pantera struggling to climb to his feet and Steph screaming at him as she ran by.
She halted before the ruined front door, instincts kicking in. A bullet grazed the frame as she pulled up, showing at least one man was out there waiting for her. Sirens wailed in the distance.
Now what?
Pantera grabbed her gun and ran out into the open. He didn’t care about the gunfire. He was focused on one goal: Eric.
A bullet passed Pantera, barely a hairsbreadth from his neck, but Pantera just stood there and fired back. Surprisingly, the dense bush his opponent sheltered behind did nothing to stop the deadly lead from entering and rifling his body. Pantera turned the gun toward the rest of the Russians.
“No.” Cassidy pulled it away from him. “Too risky.”
The main group was already at the cars, helping the beaten-up drivers and throwing them behind the wheel. They were six strong now, but they carried Eric between them, the crying child the main focus of everyone involved in the battle.
“Don’t let them take him!” Steph screamed, her voice breaking.
Pantera stumbled down the path, fully exposed.
Cassidy shook her head, then grabbed and flung him to the ground for his own safety, feeling more than a moment’s satisfaction when he grunted painfully. The asshole had brought this on everyone—from the moment he accepted the statue job and didn’t check its provenance properly, to letting the Bratva control him without asking for help.
Now Eric was bundled into the car. Cassidy saw guns being shoved out of the windows.
“No!” Steph saw what was happening.
Cassidy only had one option: a beautiful Dodge Challenger in a driveway to their left. Even in the darkness its bodywork gleamed an incandescent orange. She glanced around at Bodie. “You up for a car chase, bud?”
“Anything,” Bodie panted. “What did you have in mind?”
“That.” She was already running as the Russians fired up their engines.
“You can hot-wire something like that?”
Cassidy didn’t even respond. The leader of her group knew her background as a young adult on the street, as a hustler, as a struggling actress and a cage fighter. He knew where she came from.
“I guess it’s older than it looks,” Bodie then said to cover his mistake.
She broke the window, then climbed in, brushing the glass to the carpeted floor. The Russians were squealing away. Cassidy looped the wires and started the car, hearing the deep-voiced and beautiful V8 engine explode to life.
“Get in, Bodie,” she said as she swung out of the driveway. “And buckle up.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
The night skies over central Florida glittered with stars as Bodie fastened his seatbelt and tried to hang on. Cassidy squealed the tires and set off in pursuit of the Bratva. Pantera and his wife were wedged into the back, entirely too close to each other at that moment and possibly for the rest of their lives. Pantera was glum and Steph was fraught, neither of them risking a glance at the other for fear of anger or tears, and both sat with lips so tight they appeared to be thin white lines.
Bodie had never been entirely happy with someone else at the wheel. Most times he explained it away as motion sickness but the truth was somewhat different—he preferred to be in control.
“Steady,” he whispered as Cassidy almost clipped the curb. “Steady . . . big wheels and rims on this thing.”
She took a moment to tear her eyes from the road while accelerating. “Are you questioning my driving skills?”
“I can’t remember ever seeing you drive before, Cass.”
“You kidding me? On the film sets I was a legend. Even replaced a racing stunt double after he broke an ankle.”
“Shit, that was almost a decade ago.”
“Excuse me?” She negotiated a bend, keeping the SUVs in sight as they sped along a tree-lined boulevard.
“I’m not questioning your age, Cass. Lighten up.”
“But you are questioning my driving skills, right?”
“I question everyone’s driving skills except mine.”
She shook her head. “Asshole.”
Bodie closed his mouth, hanging on. Cassidy gave him a sly look.
“Don’t shut your mouth. It’s still dark out there and we’re gonna need the light from those teeth.”
“Bollocks.”
Cassidy revved the engine, the deep, sonorous growl of the Challenger’s supercharged Hemi V8 filling their heads and pounding their chests. Bodie stayed practical and sneaked a look at the fuel gauge. Half full. Shit, that’s not as good as it sounds.
Cassidy smashed her foot to the floor, turning more fuel into fire. The car lurched and howled and negotiated another corner, gaining on the SUVs. Bodie could see one man in the back and carefully prepared the
semiauto he’d taken back at the house.
“We ready?”
“Navigation shows a half mile straight up ahead,” Cassidy said. “I’m going for it.”
He lowered the window. Pantera did the same on his side. “Eric’s in the front vehicle, but still . . .”
“Not taking any chances,” Pantera muttered.
They leaned out either side of the car. Cassidy used the Challenger’s power to pull up behind the SUV and then whip out until she raced alongside it. Windows were already down in the other car, guns pointing.
Everyone opened fire. The Russians were at a disadvantage, being on higher ground. Shots flew over the Challenger and grazed the roof. Bodie fired up through the door skin of the other car, riddling the closest man with bullets. Pantera fired two shots at the rear windshield, taking care of the remaining passenger.
All that was left was the driver.
Cassidy swung the Challenger into the side of the SUV, counting on the driver’s shock and distractedness. Sure enough, he didn’t correct quickly and ran headlong into a tree. The front end crumpled, metal folding and shredding. The engine shot back into the car, pinning the driver just as Cassidy sped past.
Steph choked in the back seat, tears falling freely, unable to comprehend their plight. Pantera stared ahead with grim resolve. “They got my boy in there, Cass. Get your damn foot down.”
Without reply, she goosed the gas, drawing everything from the Hemi engine. Bodie held on to the seatbelt, almost losing his grip on the gun as the car leapt ahead. Among gaps in the houses and trees they could see a slow-rising dawn, a faint orange blush just visible. A ninety-degree bend approached, which both vehicles swept around with difficulty, neither sufficiently balanced to take it with a true racing line. The gap between vehicles stayed the same. Cassidy was aware of other road users. The Russians were not. They eased ahead.
A junction came up as the road sloped downward. The SUV barreled across at high speed. Cassidy saw both ways were clear and did the same. She held it better than the Russians, though, their SUV fishtailing under braking. Cassidy barged right up the car’s rear end.
The Atlantis Cipher (The Relic Hunters Book 2) Page 7
