Freeze (The Jewel Project #4)

16.2|| Means of Escape

Angie pressed her back against the beaten up wall of the house. Even through her winter jacket, she could feel the biting cold. She tightened her hold on the handle of the pistol. It felt rough, the weapon too big for her, but she'd just have to make do.

Sam and Tom immediately followed, building a wall around her. She hated it, but she knew she had no choice but to accept their protection. She had no bullet proof vest. In an attempt at bravery, Tom wanted to give her his, but it was too big and it would have made moving a burden. She'd just have to make do. Story of her life.

It took a mere few seconds for Mizrelle to join them, her brows drawn in a frown. She peeked around the corner, then gestured for them to join her. Angie pushed herself off the building and darted down the street, Sam and Tom flanking her.

Shots rang out around her, mingling with indiscernible swearing and panting. Yet, through all the mayhem, there were no sirens. No police or ambulances came to that side of town. Not on first call anyway. There was a part of Paris which was far from fabulous.

"What do you want this shithole for?" Tom said between his teeth as they reached the corner of the next house.

"Good protection money," Mizrelle answered, her tone too light for the situation. "People around here need protection."

Angie couldn't deny that. She shot at random, causing the rivaling gang to scatter out of the way.

"You're amazingly poor shots for people who ace target practice," Mizrelle deadpanned. Her shot hit one of the men in the leg and caused a flurry as his companions hurried to pull him away.

"Yes, because we dream of killing random people on the street," Sam said under his breath.

"Get off your high horse, Sammy boy," Mizrelle muttered.

They reached the safety of the next corner. The street before them was filled with scuffling bodies. Angie couldn't keep looking at the random people hurting each other over a shitty street. Over who got to extort other poor, helpless people. This wasn't right. And what hurt the most was the eerie silence that seemed to ring louder than any gunshot. Because between the swearing, the shooting, the thumping of fist into flesh, the lack of sirens was the loudest. This wasn't for them. They needed to get out of there.

"If you can't hit anyone, at least give me some cover," Mizrelle said.

"We can hit anyone, we just won't," Tom said, he too unacceptably calm. He had, after all, at one point considered embracing this life. He was the one who brought them there. "But we'll shoot all the air you want."

Angie didn't even want to shoot air, but it's not like she had much of a choice.

"Do you want me to think you've lost your nerve, darling?" Mizrelle grinned and Tom smiled back.

"Never!" he said. "But let's not force our luck. This is taking a bit longer than we expected."

"Fine then!" Mizrelle scoffed. "You lady-babies go ahead and run. I'll hold the fort down here."

Angie couldn't believe they were finally getting off. But Mizrelle launched herself around the corner and started shooting towards her opponents.

Tom grabbed Angie's hand and pulled her further along the street. Sam followed, walking backwards and shooting in the air, providing Mizrelle with much needed cover. The further they ran, the sounds of the gang fight faded, but the tragedy seemed forever ingrained in Angie's brain. She had no idea why this particular situation weighed so heavily on her. She'd been through a lot worse. Done a lot worse. She'd kidnapped a kid for Christ's sake.