Shaundi kept her pistol aimed at Josh Birk’s head. She hoped he’d give her the excuse to shoot him. He would be better off dead. She crossed her legs. Her purple polyester pants made a noise protesting the movement against the black suede couch she sat on. It gave Josh an excuse to look at the woman yet again. She was exotic, like a leopard. She wore her auburn hair in a high ponytail, allowing a stray strand to tease the side of her face. She was slender with tanned skin, like a model. She looked Italian or Spanish. Josh had a thing for models. He was also masochistic.
A few feet away from them sat Pierce and Oleg, who was playing chess. Pierce looked like a typical black posh gangster, and Oleg looked like a typical huge bodyguard on steroids. Pierce slid a small chess piece across the board and looked at Oleg, who didn’t take his eyes off the board.
“Put the gun down.” Josh broke the silence. “I won’t run.”
Shaundi scoffed, her gun hand not moving an inch off of its target. “Yeah, I’m good.”
Josh grinned wide, completely misunderstanding her. “I felt that the moment we met. That connection.”
Shaundi stilled. “What?” That one word dripped disbelief and disgust.
The man leaned towards her, his coffee-colored strands of hair catching the sun. He gave her his best smoldering look, willing her to fall for his charm. “Forbidden love.”
“Oh my God, can I
“Play nice, now.” All four heads turned towards the stairway to see their leader descending the stairs. Jamien’s eyes gave Shaundi a clear warning, but his smile was playful. “You got the stuff, Pierce?”
Oleg and Pierce both reached down for a dark green duffel bag that sat at their feet, but Oleg got to it first. “Allow me, friend.” He dropped the bag on the chessboard, scattering pieces everywhere.
“You did that on purpose.” Pierce frowned. Oleg gave an innocent shrug.
Downstairs, there were two Saints cars parked at the curb, both painted harlequin purple, one a two-door Sovereign and the other a four-door Infuego. “Think you can pick a fight with STAG by yourself?”
Jamien tossed a surprised look to Pierce, who was moving towards the sports car. “Oh, you’re not coming?” He approached his Infuego.
Pierce shook his head. “Going to pick up a surprise for STAG. You know how to use a Molotov?”
Jamien cut his eyes at his new second-in-command. “Yes, Pierce.” He said dryly, “I know how to throw a fucking bottle.” He got in the car and slammed the door hard enough to shake the car.
“Jesus, I was just askin
Jamien never had much patience to be a responsible driver, and as he drove to the STAG PR Center, he had just enough patience not to hit anyone. Driving on the correct side of the street was another matter. As he expected, STAG officers surrounded the building either standing around with their guns out and ready or sitting in their mini-tanks, N-Forcers, waiting to shoot. And it had started out as a pretty day.
Jamien noted the STAG recruit advertisement stretched across the building, split into two banners. He smiled. “Oh, these banners have to go on principal. A few
“Yes, be careful not to set off the bombs when you get close. I’ll be monitoring STAG’s approach from our security room.” The line disconnected. Jamien made a mental note to hang up on the next person he called or who called him. Rude bastards.
He turned around to find his getaway car surrounded by his armor-clad enemies. “Ah. Fuck.” Instinct drove him to reach into his jacket and throw a hand grenade at them. Good news? That promptly killed all of those troublesome STAGs. Bad news? That also killed his shiny gang car. “FUCK!” Once again, Jamien would have to make his escape on foot. He contemplated stealing an
The driver slammed on her brakes and honked angrily. He ran to the driver's side, broke the window with his elbow, opened the door and yanked the woman out. “Oh, how