through the basic checkpoints. Lineup of sight, safety, ammunition. When I looked back at Val, I saw he’d been watching me.
“So, you’ve used one of these before, huh?”
No point in lying when he’d already seen me handle the gun. “Once or twice. Why are those guys shooting at us?”
“They’re Granne’s goons,” Val told me as he drew another pistol from inside his jacket. “We call ‘em suits, and we shoot ‘em dead, or they kill us.”
Val pressed his back against the bricks at the edge of the alley. I crouched in front of him, eyeing the wrecked vehicle and ready to sprint for it the second there was a break in the gunfire. I was calculating. Val was impatient. He didn’t want to wait. He fired around the corner blindly at first and then, despite my hasty warning not to, took half a step into the street.
Quickly, but cautiously, I followed him. I fired twice, one bullet going through a suit’s arm and the other through the same suit’s chest. I had just trained my aim on another when Val snarled in pain. I shoved him back into the alley and rushed after him. Val fell against the wall, shoulder-first, and immediately, his footing slipped. I pushed him upright so his back was flat against the brick Val steadied to support his own weight, but he kept his right hand clamped tight over his left arm.
“It’s fine,” he said before I could even ask.
I shoved the pistol under my belt and untied the scarf around my neck. We needed to act quickly before the suits realized he was injured and tried to overtake us. Val seemed to understand that, too, because he dropped his hand from the wound when I raised the scarf toward him.
It was a graze, a deep one, and more than enough to scare an inexperienced shot into a frenzy. Val remained calm, though. His breathing was a bit shaky from obvious pain, but steady enough to tell me this wasn’t the first time he’d taken a bullet. A noise, which was half swear and half growl, rose in Val’s throat as I fastened a tight bandage. His hand went back to putting pressure on the wound as soon as I finished with the binding.
On the street, we heard suits shouting orders between themselves and a set of feet running toward our hiding place. They were coming for us. Val started to stand upright, but I pushed him against the wall and said, “Stay put.”
The glare he gave me suggested he didn’t take kindly to being ordered about. No sooner had the words left my lips, though, than one of the suits came around the corner. I flipped the gun over in my hand and gripped the barrel tightly, two fingers looped through to grip the metal guard behind the trigger. I swung the gun as the suit raised a far more sophisticated firearm and caught him in the jaw with the metal butt of my pistol. The bone cracked and the suit dropped his weapon.
His hands shot up to clutch his face. I tucked the gun back under my belt before bringing my hands together, lacing my fingers as I turned to my side. I threw my weight behind my right arm, leading with my shoulder and knocking the suit out of the alley.
The last two suits on the bridge panicked and fired, thinking it had been me or Val thrown from the alley. The suits swore and called to their partner. With them both caught off guard, I leapt over the corpse and ran for the bridge. Small sidesteps and quick feet kept the suits’ aim off, and I slid behind the tire of the crashed town car, unscathed.
“Nik?” came a familiar voice. I hoped I was only hearing things. The passenger door next to me cracked open, and Anya poked her head out.
“What the hell are you doing in there?” I demanded, shoving her head down as bullets struck the opposite side of the car.
With both hands over her ears, Anya asked, “Is Val okay?”
“He’s fine. Keep your head down until I say it’s safe.”
Still on one knee, I leaned so I could peer underneath the car. I spotted a suit’s set of polished shoes hurrying toward us and another close
“So, you’ve used one of these before, huh?”
No point in lying when he’d already seen me handle the gun. “Once or twice. Why are those guys shooting at us?”
“They’re Granne’s goons,” Val told me as he drew another pistol from inside his jacket. “We call ‘em suits, and we shoot ‘em dead, or they kill us.”
Val pressed his back against the bricks at the edge of the alley. I crouched in front of him, eyeing the wrecked vehicle and ready to sprint for it the second there was a break in the gunfire. I was calculating. Val was impatient. He didn’t want to wait. He fired around the corner blindly at first and then, despite my hasty warning not to, took half a step into the street.
Quickly, but cautiously, I followed him. I fired twice, one bullet going through a suit’s arm and the other through the same suit’s chest. I had just trained my aim on another when Val snarled in pain. I shoved him back into the alley and rushed after him. Val fell against the wall, shoulder-first, and immediately, his footing slipped. I pushed him upright so his back was flat against the brick Val steadied to support his own weight, but he kept his right hand clamped tight over his left arm.
“It’s fine,” he said before I could even ask.
I shoved the pistol under my belt and untied the scarf around my neck. We needed to act quickly before the suits realized he was injured and tried to overtake us. Val seemed to understand that, too, because he dropped his hand from the wound when I raised the scarf toward him.
It was a graze, a deep one, and more than enough to scare an inexperienced shot into a frenzy. Val remained calm, though. His breathing was a bit shaky from obvious pain, but steady enough to tell me this wasn’t the first time he’d taken a bullet. A noise, which was half swear and half growl, rose in Val’s throat as I fastened a tight bandage. His hand went back to putting pressure on the wound as soon as I finished with the binding.
On the street, we heard suits shouting orders between themselves and a set of feet running toward our hiding place. They were coming for us. Val started to stand upright, but I pushed him against the wall and said, “Stay put.”
The glare he gave me suggested he didn’t take kindly to being ordered about. No sooner had the words left my lips, though, than one of the suits came around the corner. I flipped the gun over in my hand and gripped the barrel tightly, two fingers looped through to grip the metal guard behind the trigger. I swung the gun as the suit raised a far more sophisticated firearm and caught him in the jaw with the metal butt of my pistol. The bone cracked and the suit dropped his weapon.
His hands shot up to clutch his face. I tucked the gun back under my belt before bringing my hands together, lacing my fingers as I turned to my side. I threw my weight behind my right arm, leading with my shoulder and knocking the suit out of the alley.
The last two suits on the bridge panicked and fired, thinking it had been me or Val thrown from the alley. The suits swore and called to their partner. With them both caught off guard, I leapt over the corpse and ran for the bridge. Small sidesteps and quick feet kept the suits’ aim off, and I slid behind the tire of the crashed town car, unscathed.
“Nik?” came a familiar voice. I hoped I was only hearing things. The passenger door next to me cracked open, and Anya poked her head out.
“What the hell are you doing in there?” I demanded, shoving her head down as bullets struck the opposite side of the car.
With both hands over her ears, Anya asked, “Is Val okay?”
“He’s fine. Keep your head down until I say it’s safe.”
Still on one knee, I leaned so I could peer underneath the car. I spotted a suit’s set of polished shoes hurrying toward us and another close
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