Sully was definitely getting the feeling that someone was on him. The kid and Chloe went silent for a few minutes, the green dot on his phone barely moving, and he took the time to circle the block he was on, jogging down an alleyway to come back around and catch his tail. There was nobody, though, not a single suspicious looking stranger or, worse, a dreaded familiar face.
He decided he was just antsy from waiting on Nate and Chloe, and hurried toward where the green dot had landed. They were apparently somewhere under a row of modern shops in an old stone building.
“Sully, you there? We’re trapped down here, you have to get us out!”
The kid sounded stressed. “Almost caught up, kid,” Sully said, and hurried to the corner of the building, a closed gift shop… But no, the dot wasn’t quite so far, it was the second store, a pizzeria. A neon abierto sign glowed in the clean glass window.
Nate was more than stressed, a note of panic in his voice as he yelled to look for a keyhole. Sully pushed open the glass doors of the pizza place, taking in the clean, sterile environment of a large franchise restaurant, all black and white and red. Wooden chairs sat around turquoise-blue Formica tables, neatly set throughout of the restaurant and against the walls. The architect had gone with a fun, gothic style, tan brick arches and fake Roman columns throughout.
“I’m in a Papa John’s,” Sully said, blinking. A sole bored teen leaned on the counter at the front, scrolling on his phone. There were a handful of customers at a few of the tables, eating slices and drinking out of paper cups.
“We’re in a Roman death well!” Chloe shrieked.
Sully grabbed the key out of his bag and scanned the walls, almost missing the mosaic on the east side because there was a mirror hanging in front of it, and two guys chatting at the table underneath. Part of a medieval wall there had been left bare, framed by the similarly colored, newer brick of the restaurant. And there was an old, eroded mosaic peeking out from behind the mirror.
He strode to the wall and pushed the table out of the way, ignoring the two guys who sat there. They stumbled out of their chairs and backed away, chattering angrily while he took down the mirror and tossed it aside.
“Found it!” he called. The mosaic was of some god-figure spitting water into a fountain, with Roman-looking figures gathered around in front. At the god’s forehead was a bronze keyhole, the word Caelum engraved over it, and— Oh. Shit. The remnants of the ancient wall had been thoughtfully preserved by the architect behind thick plated glass. The whole goddamn wall.
“You get a gold star,” Chloe said, sounding desperate. “Turn the key!”
“Gonna need a minute,” Sully said.
“We don’t have a minute!” Nate shouted.
Sully shoved the cross into his pocket, picked up one of the chairs, and swung it at the wall. The chair bounced back, the shield quivering but not even scratched.
Shit! He hit it again, harder, and again, using the bounce to swing the chair around. On the fourth try he heard the chair crack, but the plastic-coated glass was unphased. He was vaguely aware that the diners were Aeeing, the door chime sounding again and again, but he didn’t bother with damage control.
There was no time.
The table might be stronger, got a metal base—
“Hand it over, Victor,” Braddock’s smooth voice purred from behind him. “Or I’ll hurt more than just your feelings.”
Bad fucking timing, Jo. Sully dropped the chair and turned, automatically pulling the gold cross out of his pocket. Jo Braddock wore tight black tactical pants and a black nylon jacket over some kind of orange, midriff-baring top. She looked great, and she had a 9mm pointed at his skull.
He raised his hands, making sure she noticed the cross.
“You didn’t say please,” he said, and she pulled back the hammer on the semi.
“Give me the cross. Now.”
Dumb move. She should shoot him and take it off his corpse, but Braddock was so in love with beating him that she wasn’t thinking straight.
Sully put on a defeated look and shifted forward, holding out the heavy cross. Braddock stepped in to take it, watching him all the while.
She had to look down to grab the cross. When she did, he dropped it.
Braddock’s attention stayed on the falling gold for only a split second, but it was enough. He grabbed her left shoulder and swung himself around her, pressed to her back. His reach was longer than hers, and he had her beat in upper body strength. He plucked the Sig out of her hand and Aung her toward the plexiglass wall, stepped back and pointed her own gun at her.
“You should have said ‘please,’” he said, and fired, three times.
* * *
The water wasn’t icy but it was cold enough, and up to Chloe’s hips now. She rolled back and got her feet on the locked wooden door overhead, pushed as hard as she could, but there was no give at all. Nate tried to ram it with his shoulder but ended up splashing back into the rising water.
“Sully, we’re going to drown down here!” Nate shouted. “Just turn the damn key!”
“I’m working on it, kid! Shut up!”
“I’ll shut up when you get us the hell out of here!” Nate screamed.
Jesus, what is Sully DOING? Chloe couldn’t imagine, and didn’t give a shit. She did not want to die and they had two minutes before the water covered their faces, tops. Her panic rose with the water that crept up their kicking, straining bodies, filling the stone chamber.
* * *
Stupid, stupid girl! Braddock stood against the glass wall where Sully had thrown her, seething, cursing herself. She should have shot him and taken the key off his dead body, but she’d had some idea of humiliating him a bit before she put an end to him. He’d taken advantage of her misstep and now she would die, shot by Victor-fucking-Sullivan in a Barcelona pizza parlor, and it was her own fucking fault.
“You should have said ‘please,’” Sully said, and she closed her eyes, hoped it was over quickly.
He fired three times, the blast of the gun sending the remaining staff out the front door—
—and not a hit? How did I hear all three?
Braddock opened her eyes. Behind her, the wall had spider-webbed, white lines radiating out from the three holes he’d put in it, half a meter from her head. The wall held, but barely.
Sully kept the gun on her but dropped a glance to the Aoor, to the key. He started edging toward it, watching Braddock all the while.
And I thought I was stupid. Not killing her was a serious mistake.
There was a bleach rag on the table to her right, next to an empty pizza tray. With Sully moving toward the key, Braddock eased herself around toward the table, watching his every move, taking in the restaurant’s layout. He wanted the key and he was distracted…
“I’m working on it, kid! Shut up!” Sully snapped.
The boy, or the third of his crew. Scotty and Hugo hadn’t been successful, then. Braddock shifted closer to the table, and Sully glanced at the Aoor again.
Braddock snatched the rag, lunged forward, and whipped it against his gun hand. The wet cloth wrapped around the weapon and his fingers, and she jerked him forward, leaning back and letting her weight pull him in. Once he was off balance, she directed him toward the nearest faux-Roman support pillar, spun and shoved him into the painted metal. He crashed hard, the Sig clattering to the Aoor. He immediately kicked the firearm out of reach for either of them and came up wearing a pained expression, but she was already behind the pole, reaching around it to hook her right arm across his throat. She grabbed her wrist and pulled back, locking him to the pillar.
“Kid, this might take a little longer than I thought,” Sully rasped.
* * *
Longer than you thought?! What the shit?!
The water was over Nate’s junk and his lower belly now, creeping steadily upward. He rolled in the water and pulled at the grate beneath them, but it didn’t move.
When he came up Chloe was shivering next to him, still pushing at the locked door, turning the key back and forth.
“It won’t budge, I need your help,” he said, and she nodded, and they both plunged back under.
Both of them both strained and yanked at the heavy metal, to no avail.
They came up gasping.
Nate banged his elbow painfully into the stubborn wood overhead, fully aware that Sully was their only way out but trying it again anyway, inspired by rapidly approaching death.
* * *
Braddock had him in a lock and was leaning her full weight on it. Sully pried at her arms, gasping, but she didn’t give an inch. He changed tactics, done with playing nice. He reached behind the pillar and pounded the side of her head, then clenched his abs and folded forward.
Her hold broke, and before she could regroup, he swung around the pillar and picked her up, shoulder and hip. He spun and threw her across the front counter.
She slid its polished length, slamming into an old-fashioned cash register at the end that let out a cheerful ding at the impact. The money drawer popped open.
Sully turned back to where the gold cross lay on the Aoor. He’d mostly broken the plexiglass, one good kick should—
Braddock gathered herself up and launched off the counter like a Aying monkey. She landed on his shoulders, driving both of them toward the key, and punched him in the ear.
He tried to buck her off, but she stuck to him like glue, whipping out her creepy knife.
“I missed you, Victor,” she hissed in his ear. “I missed us.”
She slashed for his throat and he blocked it, the karambit slicing through the leather of his jacket sleeve. She slashed again but he threw himself backward and her cut went high, feathering through his hair, and then they were both crashing into a napkin-condiment counter, bottles of parmesan and pepper Aakes crashing to the Aoor.
Sully jerked forward and sent her sailing over his head, both of them hitting the ground. Her knife hit the fake-stone linoleum and spun away, but she’d landed near the cross and maybe remembered why she was after him in the first place. She scuttled for it on her belly, reaching for the shining gold—
No you don’t. Sully grabbed her ankle and jerked.
Braddock Aipped over and tried to kick him, but he was already on top of her feet, reaching up to grab her lethal arms. He pinned her down with his body, crawling up until they were face to face. He had to fight for every inch of it, too; she squirmed and strained with everything she had, but he let his full weight settle on her. They were both panting with exertion by the time they were eye to eye, reminding him of much better times.
“Did you really miss me?” he asked, shooting a look at the key.
In answer, Braddock leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek—and then pulled some professional-level move, bucking him upward and then wrapping her powerful thighs around his throat.
She squeezed, looking up at him with feral eyes. “Not even a little.”
* * *
Only their faces were still above water, less than a hand’s width of air left before the chamber would be filled to the top. The LED beams of the Aashlights rippled across the ceiling.
“Sully, it’s now or never buddy, we’re running out of options here!” Nate called.
Nothing from Sully, and the water crawled up over Chloe’s chin. She lifted it, wondering how long she’d be able to hold her breath. She wished she could just inhale water, skip the struggle, but knew she couldn’t do it. She’d fight all the way to the end.
“Nate, we can get out of here, we can do this,” Chloe said. They’d have to hammer through the mosaic at their feet. “Three short breaths, one long one, and hold it.”
“We can do this,” Nate affirmed, and then they were both snatching their final breaths, the water rolling up over their faces.
* * *
The kid’s desperate cry cut through the pulsing dark of Sully’s encroaching choke-out, Braddock’s thighs like a vise around his throat.
Sully punched Braddock in the ribs, hard, and pulled up one knee. As soon as he had a foot under him, he charged forward, still wearing his hazardous ex- lover like a scarf, driving her toward the cracked safety glass. He scooped up the key on the way and stumbled to the wall, Braddock suddenly trying to get loose, stunned by the charge.
He grabbed one of Braddock’s well-muscled thighs and a grasping arm and chucked her into the damaged wall, headfirst.
The coated glass shattered, raining down on Braddock’s abruptly unconscious body. Sully stepped over her and jammed the cross into the lock, turning it.