“I did not get involved with you to annoy my mother.” When they first started dating, he’d thought her real goal was to shock her mother. That had been the topic of their first fight, but it grew into a shared joke eventually. “That was a side benefit.”
He chuckled. “She give you grief over your fiancé?”
“He’s not Chinese,” she said dryly. “What do you think?” In truth, Julia Yu wasn’t prejudiced in the ordinary sense. She had a keen sense of justice, donated to civil rights organizations, and voted a straight Democratic ticket. And saw no contradiction between that and her insistence that her daughters marry good Chinese boys.
They were in A12 now, passing the rear end of a dark blue panel van. A trio of teenage girls chattered their way along the center of the traffic lane, much to the frustration of a white Mustang forced to proceed at a walking pace behind them. And the Buick behind it. And the VW behind the Buick.
Four or five slots ahead was a red pickup; she couldn’t see the tags from this angle. “That your man’s truck?” she asked.
“Think so.”
A flicker of motion in the corner of her eye was all the warning she had. In that split second—before she even knew what she’d seen—she cried out, “Duck!” and stepped to the left, pivoting.
The heavy steel chain whipped through the space where Cody’s head had been. He’d dropped—and was rolling into the legs of the Hispanic tough who’d sent the chain whirling at him.
That one fell. The two behind him didn’t. One had a knife, the other a baseball bat. They charged Cody, who was scuffling with the one he’d knocked down. “Police!” Lily snapped, drawing her gun. “Drop your weapons!”
The boom- crack of a shotgun answered her—from behind. Glass shattered as Lily dropped to a crouch, looking around frantically.
“You drop yours, bitch!” a male voice called from inside the Buick. No doubt it belonged to whoever was poking the shotgun barrel out the tinted rear window. Lily sighted quickly. She could barely make out a form behind the shotgun.
The girls screamed and scattered—one of them running right between Lily and her shot, dammit. The Mustang, no longer blocked, floored it, and the VW rocked into reverse.
“Drop it!” the one in the car yelled. “You are so dead, bitch, if you don’t put that gun down!”
Lily felt pretty attached to her weapon just then, so she replied by squeezing off a quick shot. It missed, but gave her a second’s cover to turn and—oh, shit.
She’d been about to dive between the van and the Honda on the other side of it, but the space was occupied—by three more gangbangers, advancing on her single file. And grinning. One had a gun—a Glock, maybe. She couldn’t see about the other two.
The black wolf seemed to come from nowhere, moving at top speed. She dropped. He leaped over her, right at the gangbangers. Two shots rang out—one from the shotgun, one from the other side of the van, and she hoped like hell that meant Cody had been able to get his weapon out.
Screaming—from the other side of the van, from behind her. She let the wolf take her back, rising to one knee to sight again on the shadowy form in the Buick. She squeezed the trigger.
Glass shattered. A choked noise, not hearty enough to call a scream. She kept her weapon steady, swinging it slightly to sight on the driver. “Don’t do it. Don’t think you can get away. Open the door and get out real slow.”
“Get him off,” someone was screaming. “Get him off, get him off!” Someone else was cursing and sobbing. And someone was growling, deep in his chest.
No, two someones. One on each side of the van.
“Cody!” she called, not taking her attention off the Buick, where the driver’s door was opening slowly. “You okay?”
“Battered and bloody, but operational. Your boyfriend’s got one of them pinned and I’ve got the others covered. One’s shot, but not bad.”
“On the ground. Now, dammit!” she snarled at the driver—a lanky youth, maybe nineteen, maybe less, with dirty black hair and whites showing all around his pupils. He dropped to the concrete.
“That’s it,” she said, standing slowly. “Arms out. Hold real still now. I’m feeling nervous. You don’t want to get me excited.” She advanced on the car cautiously. The driver had left the door open, and the dome light glowed brightly. The car looked empty. Was the one she’d shot dead, unconscious, or hunkered down and waiting for her to get close?
The driver was holding still like a good boy. She eased close enough to peer in the shattered window.
No, he wasn’t hunkered down waiting. He was either passed out or dead—out of play for now. She took a chance by glancing over her shoulder quickly.
The black wolf was faced off against two gangbangers, snarling. They stood frozen, not even twitching. The third lay on his stomach, unmoving. In the failing light she couldn’t see if he lived, but there was a lot of shiny liquid puddling around him.
A siren sounded suddenly, and fairly close. Wouldn’t be long.
“Cody, can you get your perps to join us out here? And, uh, Jacob—I think that’s you, right? Let your prey up now.”
“All right, you heard her. Move slow and easy. Oh, look, the poor boy peed himself.” Cody had an evil chuckle. “Didn’t like it when the big bad wolf knocked you down, huh? Come on, you, don’t whine. You’re not hurt much. I used my clutch piece, and it’s just a little .22.”
At some point during the fight the switch had flipped from dusk to night, but the parking lot lights glowed brightly. She had no trouble seeing the three gangbangers who emerged from the far side of the van. One was limping—and yes, there was a dark spot on the front of his jeans. One held his arm, where blood was oozing from the biceps. The third looked undamaged.
Lily’s heart was tripping along fast. Later, she knew, she’d get the shakes from unused adrenaline. Later she’d feel something other than relief that the one with the shotgun wasn’t shooting at her or Cody or anyone else. Later she’d feel all sorts of things.
Right now she felt fine. The breeze was stronger now, definitely cool. It felt good. It felt damn good. She was alive and she felt really good about that.
Cody followed his perps with his weapon trained on them. The wolf—a gray and tan beast—brought up the rear. Cody directed his prisoners to lie down next to the driver, a suggestion the wolf reinforced with a growl.
They didn’t argue. Cody spoke to Lily without looking away from the three gangbangers on the pavement. “I thought your boyfriend’s name was Rule.”
“It is.” A pair of headlights raced toward them down the lane, coming much too fast. “That’s not my boyfriend. Neither of them are.”
Cody’s eyes widened. “Neither of . . .”
Lily’s lips twitched as she realized that Cody hadn’t known there were two wolves. “Nope.”
The driver behind those bright headlights braked at last, tires screeching as the Mercedes shuddered to a stop ten feet away. She nodded at the car as the door was flung open. “That is.”
WITHIN fifteen minutes, an ungodly number of cops had arrived. There were a pair of rent-a-cops from the mall itself—a phrase Rule was careful not to use out loud. Lily took offense, since retired and off-duty police sometimes worked those jobs. Three patrol units and one sheriff’s deputy had responded. The flashing lights from their cars added a rosy glow to the surroundings, a counterpoint to the headlights from the two ambulances. A detective, he’d been told, was on the way, as was the ME.
The man Lily had shot still lived. He was being loaded in the first ambulance now. The one José had jumped did not. José had ripped out his throat.
Rule had heard the basic outline of events when Lily reported crisply to the first officers on scene. He’d watched as she handed over her weapon—which had angered him, but she took it in stride. It was procedure, she’d said, when shots had been fired. Besides, she’d added with a sly grin, she still had her clutch piece. Cody Beck had handed over the weapon he’d fired, too, but he still had his police-issue gun.