I opened my eyes to meet Clique's. She turned to Iron, who had finished
the plate of food. "Raine was right. He knew from the first time he saw
her. Now do you believe?"
It was out of my mouth before my mind could stop the words from coming. "I want to meet him."
"And you shall, soon. He will be able to explain better than anyone what it is that you need to hear."
Her phone rang, and she flipped it open. "Ares?"
She listened for a second. Her lips thinned. "Shit."
Clique hung up and shoved the phone in her pocket. Iron looked at her questioningly. "They know we're here. We've got to go." He pulled his gun out abruptly and leveled it at me. I stared at the barrel, stunned.
"Forgive us, but you are a great danger to us right now. We will see you soon. If you are approached by men in suits, you must run! Your life depends on it!" They turned and sprinted with almost inhuman speed to the back door slipped into the kitchen.
The other patrons of the dingy dining room glanced over my way, but I had the feeling that seeing guns drawn in this hellhole was not much out of the ordinary. I was struggling to catch my breath as the waiter came over and demanded payment for the food. I grabbed a few random francs from my bag, threw them on the table, and stumbled out into the cold night. I paused for a moment to get a feel for my surroundings. This was definitely not an area that a woman should be wandering alone at night. Catching sight of a main street up the alleyway from me, I jogged quickly toward it.
Apparently not quickly enough. A man in a dirty denim vest jumped out right in my path. "Where're you going, gorgeous?" He slurred in guttural French. I slowly started to back up, and while doing so was beginning to work my bag off my shoulder. I had gone through self-defense training, several kickboxing classes, and even two years of Tai Kwon Do in college. I knew that I would be able to at least be able to incapacitate him long enough to make a run for it.
Until he slid a 4-inch blade from a pocket as he advanced toward me.
One more step back, turn the foot, fighting stance...Oh shit, here he comes. I swung my bag at his face with all my might, and had followed through with a clumsy-yet-effective roundhouse kick that brought him to the ground, when the other man grabbed me from behind. I hadn't seen or heard him. Yet he pinned me roughly against his chest. I brought my head back as hard as I could, and was gratified to hear a sickening crunch. I had gotten his nose. For good measure I stomped my heel down on his instep. He released me with a snarl of pain, and I sprinted with everything I had toward the street.
When I burst out onto the slightly better lit sidewalk, I looked around wildly. Two prostitutes were slinking about the shadows of a building across the street. A man had pulled his car up to them.
On my side of the street, I looked left and was shocked. A man in a dark, pristinely pressed suit, wearing sunglasses despite the fact that it was a gloomy, dark night, was walking purposefully toward me. I got a very bad feeling.
Clique had warned me about suits. My intuition was screaming at me to run.
I started backing away from him, and turned to run. I was still looking back when I slammed into a hard chest. I fell to the ground, and the man leapt over me, drawing a gun. He crouched right in front me, putting himself between me and the man in the suit. He fired from two guns and shouted for me to run. I jumped up and ran up the sidewalk, his cover fire still sounding. I reached an intersection and raced down another street. The man with the guns came around the corner nearly a split second after I did, which should not have been possible, considering that he would have had to cover a hundred feet in less than two seconds. He grabbed my arm and jerked me down another alleyway. I thought myself in great shape, especially for a run, but this guy was practically dragging me along. We turned two or three more times before he pulled me into an empty stairwell and slammed the door behind us.
The man yanked two clips from under his long black leather trench coat and reloaded his guns. I couldn't see his face, but his posture didn't show any strain. He wasn't even winded. But I was dizzy. Very dizzy. Something was wrong. I swayed and ended up sitting on a stair, grasping a railing to keep myself upright. My left forearm hurt. I looked down at it, shocked to see my fingers wrapped around my bag covered with blood. I reached down to pull the bag away with my other hand, and was shocked to see a long, deep gash running half the length of my forearm, and bleeding.
The man looked down at me for the first time. I couldn't make out his face in the dimly lit stairwell, but I was looking up a long way. "Shit." he whispered.
He holstered his guns, yanked his belt from his waist and tourniqueted my arm at the elbow with it. "You didn't mention that you were hurt. His voice was pleasantly gravelly, and at the same time warm. I couldn't focus on his face, but I really wanted to see my savior.
I forced my weak voice out. "Couldn't really find an appropriate time. Next time I'm running for my life, I'll try to remember to bring it up. "
"Good girl, just stay conscious for me. " He lifted me under my shoulders and knees, and carried me up the stairs of the abandoned building.
Or at least I assumed it was abandoned. That was until he brought me into a well-lit room with two green overstuffed armchairs, a beat-up coffee table, and a single black rotary-dial phone.
He set me down in one of the chairs, then stripped his long coat off, and laid it out on the floor. He helped me down onto it, then grabbed a pillow from one of the chairs and propped my injured arm up on it. He flipped open his cell phone and called that Ares person.
The last thing that I remember before completely blacking out was the beautiful, concerned face of my savior.
It was out of my mouth before my mind could stop the words from coming. "I want to meet him."
"And you shall, soon. He will be able to explain better than anyone what it is that you need to hear."
Her phone rang, and she flipped it open. "Ares?"
She listened for a second. Her lips thinned. "Shit."
Clique hung up and shoved the phone in her pocket. Iron looked at her questioningly. "They know we're here. We've got to go." He pulled his gun out abruptly and leveled it at me. I stared at the barrel, stunned.
"Forgive us, but you are a great danger to us right now. We will see you soon. If you are approached by men in suits, you must run! Your life depends on it!" They turned and sprinted with almost inhuman speed to the back door slipped into the kitchen.
The other patrons of the dingy dining room glanced over my way, but I had the feeling that seeing guns drawn in this hellhole was not much out of the ordinary. I was struggling to catch my breath as the waiter came over and demanded payment for the food. I grabbed a few random francs from my bag, threw them on the table, and stumbled out into the cold night. I paused for a moment to get a feel for my surroundings. This was definitely not an area that a woman should be wandering alone at night. Catching sight of a main street up the alleyway from me, I jogged quickly toward it.
Apparently not quickly enough. A man in a dirty denim vest jumped out right in my path. "Where're you going, gorgeous?" He slurred in guttural French. I slowly started to back up, and while doing so was beginning to work my bag off my shoulder. I had gone through self-defense training, several kickboxing classes, and even two years of Tai Kwon Do in college. I knew that I would be able to at least be able to incapacitate him long enough to make a run for it.
Until he slid a 4-inch blade from a pocket as he advanced toward me.
One more step back, turn the foot, fighting stance...Oh shit, here he comes. I swung my bag at his face with all my might, and had followed through with a clumsy-yet-effective roundhouse kick that brought him to the ground, when the other man grabbed me from behind. I hadn't seen or heard him. Yet he pinned me roughly against his chest. I brought my head back as hard as I could, and was gratified to hear a sickening crunch. I had gotten his nose. For good measure I stomped my heel down on his instep. He released me with a snarl of pain, and I sprinted with everything I had toward the street.
When I burst out onto the slightly better lit sidewalk, I looked around wildly. Two prostitutes were slinking about the shadows of a building across the street. A man had pulled his car up to them.
On my side of the street, I looked left and was shocked. A man in a dark, pristinely pressed suit, wearing sunglasses despite the fact that it was a gloomy, dark night, was walking purposefully toward me. I got a very bad feeling.
Clique had warned me about suits. My intuition was screaming at me to run.
I started backing away from him, and turned to run. I was still looking back when I slammed into a hard chest. I fell to the ground, and the man leapt over me, drawing a gun. He crouched right in front me, putting himself between me and the man in the suit. He fired from two guns and shouted for me to run. I jumped up and ran up the sidewalk, his cover fire still sounding. I reached an intersection and raced down another street. The man with the guns came around the corner nearly a split second after I did, which should not have been possible, considering that he would have had to cover a hundred feet in less than two seconds. He grabbed my arm and jerked me down another alleyway. I thought myself in great shape, especially for a run, but this guy was practically dragging me along. We turned two or three more times before he pulled me into an empty stairwell and slammed the door behind us.
The man yanked two clips from under his long black leather trench coat and reloaded his guns. I couldn't see his face, but his posture didn't show any strain. He wasn't even winded. But I was dizzy. Very dizzy. Something was wrong. I swayed and ended up sitting on a stair, grasping a railing to keep myself upright. My left forearm hurt. I looked down at it, shocked to see my fingers wrapped around my bag covered with blood. I reached down to pull the bag away with my other hand, and was shocked to see a long, deep gash running half the length of my forearm, and bleeding.
The man looked down at me for the first time. I couldn't make out his face in the dimly lit stairwell, but I was looking up a long way. "Shit." he whispered.
He holstered his guns, yanked his belt from his waist and tourniqueted my arm at the elbow with it. "You didn't mention that you were hurt. His voice was pleasantly gravelly, and at the same time warm. I couldn't focus on his face, but I really wanted to see my savior.
I forced my weak voice out. "Couldn't really find an appropriate time. Next time I'm running for my life, I'll try to remember to bring it up. "
"Good girl, just stay conscious for me. " He lifted me under my shoulders and knees, and carried me up the stairs of the abandoned building.
Or at least I assumed it was abandoned. That was until he brought me into a well-lit room with two green overstuffed armchairs, a beat-up coffee table, and a single black rotary-dial phone.
He set me down in one of the chairs, then stripped his long coat off, and laid it out on the floor. He helped me down onto it, then grabbed a pillow from one of the chairs and propped my injured arm up on it. He flipped open his cell phone and called that Ares person.
The last thing that I remember before completely blacking out was the beautiful, concerned face of my savior.