The Operator

But it wasn’t Allen who scuffed out from the shadows. It wasn’t Michael, either.

“Hello, ladies,” a heavy man in a ragged coat said, sauntering confidently from between two buildings with five of his thugs behind him, each one looking more thin and disheveled than the last. Casino trash. Great. “Where are you two fine crotch-riders going tonight? Lookin’ for something? Me and my boys got more than enough.”

Laughing, his buddies grabbed their privates suggestively as they circled them. Peri focused on the one who hadn’t. He was shorter than all of them, Asian, and his clothes, while just as mismatched and tatty, were clean. His coat was leather, and his fingers weren’t stained from drugs or nic caps. A lit phone glowed from his pocket. Boss, she realized, thinking he was smart to have the big man do the talking. He was also the only one who didn’t have a pistol jammed into his waistband.

Harmony shifted to put her back to Peri’s. “We aren’t looking for anything you got. Back off. Let us by, and no one gets hurt.”

That got the expected chuckle, but safeties were clicking off. It was the phone Peri was interested in. “That’s my friend’s phone,” Peri said when the light on it went out. “Where is he?”

Surprise flickered over the big man’s face, but the short guy smiled, his thin lips pressed together as he took in Peri’s swollen cheek. “It’s mine now,” he said, and Peri readjusted her opinion from Asian to American Indian. “Did he do that to you?”

He was looking at her bruise, and Peri grimaced. “No, she did,” she said, nodding to Harmony, and the man’s eyebrows rose in question.

“LB,” the big man protested when the smaller man pushed his way to the front, smacking the larger man in the chest to be quiet. The light hit LB, showing the stylized tattoos of bears, eagles, and little fish decorating his neck. Peri was betting they continued over his chest and back. His confidence was absolute as he stood before them with his arms crossed, more men slipping out of the shadows with clinks and sliding thumps to circle them. Soon as they had enough, they’d try for the guns. And then whatever else they wanted, probably.

“You give us the guns, we might let you walk out of here,” LB said as his men sniggered.

Doubtful. Fingers shifting, Peri popped the clip out and threw the weapon at him. The men surrounding them reacted slow, falling back and swearing, but LB caught it. “Have it.”

“What are you doing!” Harmony hissed, appalled as her aim shifted from man to man.

“What?” Peri complained as she dropped the clip into her coat pocket. “I want my hands free. Besides, he can’t shoot it without bullets.”

The men laughed as LB took out a clip from his pocket and snapped it in.

“Unless he carries his own,” Peri grumbled, shifting to find her balance. Her knife was a half second from her hand, another half second from the neck of whoever touched her first. She didn’t like buying respect that way, but they weren’t listening.

The circle was closing, moving around the smaller man like water moves around a rock. Peri’s pulse quickened, her eyes never leaving him. He was small to have commanded this much control over them, and she wanted to know why.

Harmony eased closer, the scent of sweat growing strong. “You see that Ford truck?” she said, chin shifting to point it out. “I’m going right.”

Yeah, we should probably try to escape. “I’ll go left,” Peri said, finding her balance. Six men circled them. One looked stoned, another just bored. Three firearms, two pipes. Say . . . ten people watching from the shadows, with maybe two willing to shoot? One that might actually be good at it? The odds were better than at first glance.

“Gun?” the big man said, face ugly as he grinned. “Give it to me now, Cornrows!”

Harmony started, her tension tinged with anger. “Did you just call me Cornrows?”

Peri eyed the dark, broken windows above them. She’d have five seconds until surprise wore off and they began shooting. Fat Man would be her shield.

“Drop it!” Fat Man bellowed, and Harmony shook her head, jaw clenched.

“You can have my gun—”

“When I pry it out of your cold, dead hand,” LB said in a tired tone. “That gets so old.”

“No,” Harmony said grimly. “After I shove it up your ass!” Screaming, Harmony darted to the right, planting her foot into the gut of the man in her way. He doubled over, but she was already gone, sprinting for the dubious protection of the abandoned vehicle.

Peri jumped at the pop of a gun, darting left to catch one man and dislocate his arm as she swung him. He shrieked in pain, then bellowed when a bullet hit his beefy shoulder. Grunting, Peri pushed him into the rest and ran for the truck. He’d be fine.

Three, two, one . . . she counted down as the man screamed, “Pop it out! Oh, God! Someone, pop my shoulder back out!” She shifted to the left, almost falling on ice when a spray of concrete peppered her legs. More weapons fired until LB shouted for them to knock it off. The gunfire might bring the cops, but not until sunup.

“It’s me!” she called, hoping the dark shadow by the car was Harmony.

“You hit?” Harmony asked as she skidded to a crouched halt. Peri looked at the empty windows. It would take time to get up there, but not forever. She and Harmony would have to be gone by then. Finding Allen or Michael was looking slim. “I said, are you okay!”