He ran straight at the first driver, wrenching the man’s arm. Turning, he pulled until the man fell away headfirst into the street. Bodie was on him again in less than a second as Cassidy raced by, going for the second driver. Bodie struck hard, twice, rabbit punches to the back of the man’s neck. Pantera ran by and caught Bodie’s eye.
“Jack. No!”
But there was no stopping him. Pantera ran straight for the battered front door.
“Shit.”
Bodie rammed his opponent’s skull into the ground until he moved no more, then scrambled up, took the keys from the ignition, and checked on Cassidy. Her opponent was big with arms like brick pillars crisscrossed with veins. He was big, but he was slow. Cassidy could duck under his punches to deliver her own swift, stinging jabs. She was wearing him down, but he was still standing. It would take time for her to neutralize him.
Time neither Jack nor his family could afford to lose.
Bodie signaled to Cassidy that he was going after Pantera. Cassidy nodded and increased her efforts. She took a heavy blow from the big man’s clenched fist, shrugged it off, and managed to repay the strike with two well-placed punches of her own, one to her opponent’s sternum and the other to his exposed throat. He fell, retching.
Bodie approached the front door recklessly, feeling less the careful, renowned thief and closer to a CIA special agent. What the hell was he supposed to be these days, anyway? Partially he felt guilty for creating this horrific situation, and partially he wanted to hurt Pantera for letting it all go this far. He was sure he’d heard somewhere that you were supposed to challenge yourself with new and difficult situations, place yourself outside your comfort zone.
But this?
As he reached the front door he realized that some of these men might know his face. Surely, they would have been briefed. Would he then also be a target?
Inside, a dark vestibule led to a large kitchen with a central breakfast bar. The light switches were right next to him but Bodie preferred the dark. He stole quickly across the room, entering a hallway. All the noise was coming from upstairs. The banister rails began to appear one by one to his left and he saw the boots, then the legs of someone rushing up.
Cassidy appeared at his back, tapping his shoulder to signal all was well.
Bodie kept caution to a maximum, checking the rooms on the lower level. It was Jack Pantera who’d taught him to ensure there was never an enemy at his back. Now the man was up there and struggling to save his family judging from what Bodie could hear. By the time Bodie and Cassidy had swept the lower level there was movement on the stairs.
“Wait! Wait! What the hell are you doing? I kept up my end of the bargain.”
“Bargain?” Pantera’s wife, Steph, could be heard crying. “What bargain? What have you done to us, Jack?”
“Nothing! It’s these Russian assholes. They…”
Jack grunted as though someone had punched him. Knees hit the wooden floor directly above Bodie’s head.
Sneaking a glance out of the front room, Bodie saw two men descending the stairs.
“Be ready for these two, Cass. They have semiautos.”
“We did all right in Olympia and all those other places. We can’t just let this happen.”
Bodie had no intention of doing so. “We do it the best way we know how.”
Cassidy grabbed his arm. “There’s a kid involved.”
“Don’t you think I know that?”
Bodie waited for an opportunity. He was at ground level, way below their eyeline. When the first man set foot on the ground floor he could see Pantera struggling at the top of the stairs, his family behind him. Burly men stood all around, guns pointed menacingly.
“Get down the goddamn stairs,” one snarled with a heavy accent.
Bodie scanned the usual assortment of faces. Hard and cold and vicious, void of anything that might be called sentiment. These were men who had killed their whole lives and forgotten how to be essentially human.
“Change of plan,” he admitted to Cassidy. “Finesse isn’t gonna work.”
“Duh.”
Cassidy fell down alongside him, scanning the hallway. The space to the right led to another door — a utility room and a side exit that she knew led to the garage. A peek through the window revealed a car sat inside — a family Chevy which again, she knew, had no chance of outrunning the Russians. The options weren’t promising. They sure as hell couldn’t outgun their enemy in a closed environment.
But across the street…?
She knew it was a hell of a risk, but saw no alternative. There was no easy or quiet way out of this. “Bodie,” she said. “Create fucking mayhem, ’cause otherwise — we’re all dead.”
She knew instinctively they had to let the entire group come downstairs. To force them back up would create an impossible bottleneck and then a desperate battle, because there was no real escape, and Pantera, or his family, would be in even more danger. She used the time they had spare to whisper into Bodie’s ear.
Not sweet nothings.
More like ruthless affronts.
When the last man came down, pushing Pantera’s wife from behind, Cassidy waited a moment and then slid out of the darkness. She was a creeping, toxic shadow, bringing mortality to those who sought to force it upon others. The last man never saw her coming, so intent was he on pushing Pantera’s wife in the small of her back, so intent was he on causing her discomfort.
When his boot raised for an unnecessary kick, Cassidy slipped her arm around his throat and choked him out. As he fell she caught his gun. When he hit the floor she let his skull bounce off the heavy oak planking.
Pantera’s wife whirled around, gasped.
Up ahead, another man turned to check on the progress of his comrades and saw her.
Bodie made as much noise as he could, breaking windows in the living room, smashing the TV, the mirrors, and the French windows. He also shouted, “Police!” for good measure, then ran across the hall and caused more havoc.
Cassidy fired above everyone’s head. The Russians turned and sprinted toward the door. Cassidy pulled Pantera’s wife out of the jostling bunch and hurled her toward Bodie.
The Englishman grabbed her before she hit the side wall and pushed a finger upon her lips. “We’re trying to help. Stay here, away from the Bratva.”
She nodded but looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights. Bodie knew there was no way of telling what she would do next.
Cassidy couldn’t bring herself to shoot a man in the back. Instead she grabbed hold of the next Russian and, when he whirled to strike, smashed his head against the plaster wall to the right, creating a huge dent and sending out a plume of dust. Of course, he was Bratva. She didn’t expect him to go down. He was raising his gun once more, shoulders tensed, even as his face ran with blood and his eyes flickered in agony.
She gave no quarter, saw the barrel of his gun, finger tensed on the trigger. She broke the arm at the wrist and tried to wrestle the gun away as he held on and fought and tried not to scream. He pushed her back against the wall as the others escaped. He punched her in the gut as she fought for the gun.
Bodie came up, fired a shot into her opponent’s ribcage. Cassidy grabbed the gun. “Didn’t want to shoot the bastard; just wanted to incapacitate him. Stupid.”
“Today, Cass, it’s kill or be killed. Don’t hesitate.”
She nodded, then ran ahead. Already, she saw Pantera’s wife following them. Of course, she couldn’t blame the woman — the Bratva had her son. Cassidy saw the rearmost Russian turn now and level his weapon. She fired first, spraying him across the shoulders with bullets. He fell back in the hallway, unleashing lead into the ceiling and through the empty floors and roof above.