Part of me wanted to hurry up and get the job over with, but at the same time, I knew I was in over my head. I still hadn’t gotten an explanation as to why we’d been attacked by tank-driving nuns, nor given any information about our upcoming heist. If I went with my characteristic “shoot things in the face” method, I was sure I’d wind up dead, and then there’d be no way I’d get back to my family. Or so I thought. For all I knew, death wasn’t as permanent as I thought it was. Of course, I’d actually met Death, and he didn’t seem like the kind of guy who gave second chances. Either way, I’d rather avoid that.
“Come out,” Vitaly said, glancing at us with his steel-gray eyes before turning on his heel and walking across the parking lot.
“Where are we going?” I asked, ducking out after him and shielding my eyes with one hand from the glare. I still felt a little weird about taking the nuns’ van, even if it was mostly a non-descript black van. Not because I had a problem with stealing, but what if they had a way of tracking it? Then they’d be on their way here right now.
“Our fearless leader has decided it might be a good idea for us to freshen up prior to laying siege on one of the biggest landmarks in Manhattan,” Jenna said, sidling up to me in the way she did and getting all up in my personal space. “I know it seems like a waste of time, but try to enjoy it. You’re spending other people’s money. What do you say, Mac? Fancy a spending spree?”
I had half a mind to move away from her, but I was still hoping to play off remembering who she was. If I told her to get off me, and it wasn’t something I normally did around her, the proverbial jig would be up. To be honest, I wasn’t sure why it mattered. I kept hoping she’d let something slip, because if I just let the cat out of the bag and asked her questions about my past, she could lie and I’d have no way of knowing otherwise.
“Count me in,” Wendy said, leaping out of the car while holding her doll. Marvin’s legs smacked across the metal end of the van and he cried out in pain. I wasn’t sure if she was lying about the doll being inhabited by her brother, but if that wasn’t the case, she was seriously taking the whole ventriloquist thing to a whole other level. “As much as I like post-bloodbath chic, it doesn’t really bring out my eyes.”
“Your eyes are shit brown,” Marvin snapped, glaring at her while rubbing his shin. “Why would you want to bring them out?”
Wendy’s face twisted in rage, and for a second, I thought she might hurl the doll across the parking lot. Part of me sort of hoped she did. I wasn’t sure what their deal was, exactly, as far as the mission, nor what sacrifice they’d have to make, but I was starting to think having them along might be more trouble than it was worth.
“Keep it up and I’ll dump you in a wood chipper. You think I won’t,” Wendy said in a voice so quiet, I almost didn’t hear it. “But I just might, and there’d be nothing you could to do stop me.”
“Whatever, Wendy. It’s a joke, not a dick. Don’t take it so hard,” Marvin grumbled, turning away from her and crossing her arms.
Wendy opened her mouth like she was about to say something, but she must have decided against it because she just stomped off in the direction Vitaly had gone. My gaze followed her, and I found myself staring at one of those super-expensive, super-exclusive boutiques. It was the kind of place that wouldn’t let me in even if I wasn’t dressed like the kind of guy who gets pissed off and shoots up a school.
“Le Château de Tissu Extraordinaire?” I said, hoping I was pronouncing the French correctly. “Whatever happened to Walmart or Kohl’s? You know, something low key?”
“I hear they have nice stuff here, and besides, it isn’t like we’re paying. Vassago is,” Jenna said, smirking at me as she intertwined one hand with mine and pulled me along like she was my over-enthusiastic girlfriend. “I heard this was a Chicago only brand. I didn’t know they opened a second location. If I remember, they have an entire room dedicated just to lace.”
“Exciting,” I replied, hoping we wouldn’t be in here too long. It wasn’t even that I had anything against hoity toity, fufu places either. It was more that I didn’t want to spend hours looking through a “lace room.” In fact, that was the thing I wanted to do least in life.
“We can’t all be dressed like the weird guy in high school no one liked,” Jenna said, looking me up and down. “I mean seriously, Mac. You used to be stylish. Now you’re wearing a trench coat and a Rage Against the Machine T-shirt. Want to just wait in the van and smoke pot?” She raised an eyebrow at me.
“My girlfriend gave me this shirt,” I said before I could stop myself, and as the words left my mouth, Jenna released my hand like she’d been holding a sweaty toad.
“You have a fucking girlfriend?” she cried, raising one shapely eyebrow and glaring at me hard enough to melt steel. I’ll be honest, I cringed away from her a little. Okay, a lot.
“Yeah. Things change,” I said, moving toward the entrance and leaving her behind. As I pulled open the door and stepped inside, I really hoped I hadn’t permanently pissed her off. I wasn’t sure what the nature of our relationship had been, but something told me making a chick who had just waxed over a dozen people in the span of a minute hate you was probably a bad idea.
“So much for always and forever,” Jenna muttered as the door swung shut behind me. “I should have known.”
I swallowed hard. Had I promised something to Jenna? Something I couldn’t even fucking remember? I seriously hoped not, and not just because it’d make me feel bad to pull the whole “Sorry I have amnesia and forgot about you and now have a different girlfriend” thingy, but because I had feelings for Ricky. How would she feel about this? Probably not very good. Ricky would most likely back off, claiming our feelings were the result of the stupid imprint.
“You see this card?” Vitaly roared from in front of me while waving a pair of credit cards in front of the pint-sized pixie of a clerk with Georgia peach blonde hair who had come over to greet us. “This is an American Express Centurion card.” He pointed to the second card. “This is a J.P. Morgan Palladium Card.”
Her eyes got as big as saucers as she stared at the two credit cards. I wasn’t quite sure what was so special about them, but evidently they were a lot different from other credit cards because the look on her face went from one of professional disinterest to one of instant helpfulness.
“So, how can I help you?” she asked in a voice full of bubbly enthusiasm. Her eyes darted from the cards to the big Russian in his tattered suit.
“I need a new suit. Something nice,” he said before turning to gesture at us. “Also clothing for my compatriots. He will need suit too. The women…” He waved his hand off dismissively. “Whatever they like.”
“Right away, sir,” she said, a broad smile on her face. “Our custom tailors are just through here.”
“What’s the fascination with suits?” I asked, moving up next to Vitaly as he followed the clerk. I mean, I wasn’t opposed to getting a free tailored suit, but it seemed like a strange thing to go out of your way to get.
“Two reasons. One is for cover. People tend to shy away from others in fancy suits.” Vitaly’s face turned somber as he spoke. “Second reason is less good. When I meet God, I want to look nice.” He gestured at me. “With arm like that, you should do same.”
Chapter 5
An hour later, I’d been primped, pruned, and stuffed into a crisp white button up, imported red silk tie, and slacks that cost more than a small car. I looked awesome, especially when I donned my trench coat. I’d had half a mind to get a suit jacket, but I doubted they had any bulletproof ones, and in my line of work, that beat out fashion.
Aside from not having to pay for any of it, the best part was having showered and shaved. I don’t want to go into it much, but as the hot water had pelted my back, I’d felt a strange sense of relief I couldn’t quite understand. I’d been dirty for so long, it’d become almost a state of being, but now I was thankfully, mercifully clean.
Since I’d pa
ssed on the mani-pedi, I was sitting in a quaint little speakeasy-style bar inside Le Château de Tissu Extraordinaire. I wasn’t quite sure why the bar was in here, but hey, when in Rome, right? Besides, it wasn’t like I had anything better to do while everyone else was getting all dolled up. Sure, there was a job I needed to pull off, but somehow, I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to be rushing Vitaly into anything. The man had spent twenty minutes comparing suit fabric that looked exactly the same to me.
I glanced up from my old fashioned and smiled at the busty blonde standing behind the bar. She was dressed like Marilyn Monroe in Some like it Hot, but I was pretty sure Marilyn had never had a body as nice as this girl’s, but then again, I didn’t think many women did.
“It’s great that there’s a bar in here,” I said, leaning back on my barstool and gesturing toward the entrance. Beyond that threshold was nothing but lace, dresses, and makeup. I shivered.
The bartender gave me a thousand-watt smile. “Some of our patrons prefer to let their,” she paused as if searching for the right word, “companions shop while they explore other activities.” She leaned forward on the bar, revealing a ridiculous amount of cleavage and pursed her ruby red lips. “Are there other activities you wish to explore?”
My heart started racing as I stared at her. As much as I hated to admit it, I let a couple possibilities play through my mind. I wasn’t quite sure what she was suggesting exactly, but I knew I wasn’t exactly catnip to the ladies. Besides, I had a girlfriend. At least, I was pretty sure I did, and even if I didn’t, I was starting to get the feeling Jenna might not take kindly to seeing me flirt with other ladies.
I pushed those thoughts aside and took another sip of my drink. It was just this side of perfect. The alcohol served to clear my head as a more reasonable explanation popped into my head. I was the only person in a bar that obviously catered to very rich people. Most patrons in here would likely be lecherous old men letting their women shop. Her flirtation likely had more to do with getting a generous tip out of said men. Well, I wasn’t playing that game.
“Another drink would be great,” I said, popping the brandied cherry into my mouth and chewing. It was one of the best cherries I’d ever had. Then again, it was the only one I could remember eating, so there was that.
“Pity,” she said, pulling away from the bar and moving to make my drink. Watching her do it was just as amazing as it had been the first time since she was so precise about the whole thing. I’d never actually seen someone slowly muddle a sugar cube soaked in bitters like they were supposed to do before, but she did it.
Still, while her explanation for the bar made sense to some degree, it still seemed a bit off. True, the place wasn’t very big, barely enough room for six or so people at the bar, but how often could it possibly be used? However, I wasn’t about to argue with their business plan. Not when I was sitting here taking advantage of it.
I finished my drink and pushed it across the bar, and as I did so, Marilyn came walking toward me. “Trade?” she asked, grabbing my glass and swapping it for a full one.
“Sounds like a plan,” I said, taking a sip of the cocktail. It was almost better than the first one, and as the whiskey hit my tongue, a lazy grin spread across my face. “You sure know what you’re doing back there.”
“Well, you know,” she said, gesturing at the wall of expensive whiskeys behind her. “Some of these cost upwards of a hundred bucks a shot. We want to make sure our guests get exactly what they pay for.” She flashed her dentists’ wet dream of a smile at me. “No one likes to feel like they’re getting cheated.”
“Fair enough,” I said, smirking as a sudden thought occurred to me. I wasn’t going to pay the tab. Vassago was, and he was a douchebag demon. “What’s the most expensive thing you have back there?”
She responded, but I didn’t hear her response over the explosion that shook the room like an earthquake. I spun toward the entrance as my barstool went out from under me, landing flat on my back. As I scrambled to my feet, trying my best not to cry over spilled alcohol because it was only Knob Creek, another explosion rocked the store.
I grabbed onto the bar for stability as thousands of dollars’ worth of alcohol fell off the glass shelves and shattered across the slate floor. Well, that’d be something to cry about. The scent of whiskey hit my nose like a fist, and while I normally liked the smell, this was way too much for me.
Suppressing the urge to gag, I glanced around for any obvious sources of the explosion even though I was pretty sure it’d come from somewhere outside the bar. Satisfied nothing in here was going to burst into flames, I hazarded a glance at the bartender.
She was leaning forward over the bar, unconscious. Blood dripped from a cut on her head, and as I reached forward to see if she was okay, a shotgun-toting nun walked by the entrance. She seemed surprised to see me, so I guess the feeling was mutual. As she turned to bring the gun to bear, I snagged an empty glass off the bar and hurled it at her.
The heavy tumbler hit her square in the forehead. Her shotgun went off anyway, tearing a hole in the ceiling above me instead of through my torso. Not wanting to give her another shot at perforating me with buckshot, I dove forward, tackling her to the ground.
The back of the nun’s head smacked against the slate floor moments before my entire weight drove the breath from her lungs. I decked her once for good measure, smashing her nose into a bloody mess before wrenching the shotgun from her stunned grip. I turned the weapon on her, and as I did, she kicked me in the knee.
I wasn’t sure what her plan had been because her attack misdirected my blast. I’d been aiming at her chest, but the blow had wound up making my arms swing up while I’d depressed the trigger. It wound up making me shoot her in the face with the shotgun. Needless to say, as I toppled painfully to the ground beside her, she was too busy being dead to capitalize on it.
While I was glad she was dead, I was starting to worry our little gunfight might make reinforcements show up. It was time to get out of here before that happened.
Trying to ignore the pain radiating from my kneecap, I racked another shell before getting to my feet. I moved to the dead nun’s side and pulled the bandolier full of shotgun shells from her bloody corpse. I stared at the bandolier in annoyance mostly because it was covered in blood, and I was wearing a nice new suit. Then again, I was still wearing my old trench coat.
Another explosion rocked the building. I wasn’t sure what they were assaulting Le Château de Tissu Extraordinaire with, but as I knew from experience, a tank wouldn’t be out of the question. Hopefully, I could get out of here before they reduced the clothing store to rubble.
If I didn’t, I was going to have a hell of a time rescuing those kids. I wasn’t sure how the Sisters of the Black Flame had found us, but I was guessing the answer had to do with the van we’d stolen. I knew that had been a stupid play. We should have ditched it at the first opportunity, not brought it with us. Fucking Amateurs.
“You people suck,” I said throwing the bandolier over one shoulder. I looked like a cross between Rambo and Neo, but at least I wouldn’t run out of bullets.
I took a step toward the entrance and peered out. I didn’t see anyone, but that didn’t mean much since I could hear the sounds of automatic weapons in the distance. I tossed one last glance at the bartender and realized I couldn’t see her from where I was standing. Good, that meant the nuns wouldn’t see her either. No doubt the nuns were after me and my crew. Even if they found her, they hadn’t killed the hostess from the diner. Maybe they’d just leave her alone. I wasn’t sure if it was true or not, but at the moment, I knew me standing here would be more likely to get her killed.
The room outside the bar was just a hallway leading into different facets of the store. With any luck, I could make it outside without being spotted. Yeah, I know, luck and I weren’t the best of friends, but sometimes she’s less of a bitch about it.
As I stepped out into the hallway, another explosion rocked the
building. I staggered into the far wall as a trio of nuns with AK47s came barging into the hallway. I fired the second I saw them, and it was likely the only thing that saved me.
My blast caught one in the chest and threw her backward in a spray of blood and buckshot. The other two, undeterred by their sister’s plight, opened fire on me with their AK47s. Bullets tore into the wall beside me, ripping erratic arcs in the drywall as I dove through the closest doorway. Even still, I wound up taking a couple bullets, but thankfully, my trench coat kept them from doing permanent damage. Even still, I knew I’d feel them come morning.
Three of the walls were covered in swaths of satin fabric and dresses that could only be worn at full on royal balls. Fortunately, the last wall had a dressing room. Jackpot!
I scrambled to my feet and had barely made it into the dressing room, when a burst of gunfire tore through the wall, reducing all the fancy dresses to twists of torn fabric. I didn’t think they’d seen me since it seemed like they’d fired through the wall, but that wouldn’t be the case for long. As soon as they came inside, it’d be really obvious where I was hiding. Well, I’d just have to make sure I gave them a warm welcome.
I dropped to my belly on the slate floor, scrunched myself backward into the dressing room, and closed the door. As I heard them move into the room, I pointed my shotgun at where it sounded like they were. Here goes nothing.
A quick pull of the trigger shattered what remained of my hearing along with the dressing room’s partially open door. Gunfire tore through the space above me, and I reoriented the shotgun and fired two more times in quick succession. This time, no gunfire returned. I hastily reloaded the weapon before nudging the door open. When I wasn’t immediately filled full of lead, I risked a look around.
Seized: An Urban Fantasy Novel (The Thrice Cursed Mage Book 4) Page 4