Sonata (Butcher and Violinist 2)

Louis shrugged. “Fi-na-fucking-ly is right.”

“This shit will come to an end one way or the other.”

“Shit.” Louis pressed his hand against the bud in his ear. The guy must’ve said something on the other line. “Okay. Got it. I’ll tell him. Jean-Pierre, the cellphone towers are back on.”

Jean-Pierre quirked his eyes. “Kazimir probably didn’t appreciate the lack of communication?”

Now we had less time than before. Only God knew where the Mouse scurried off too. If she could kill Jean-Pierre’s men in minutes, then she could get to a phone and call Kazimir.

Jean-Pierre gestured to the guy next to him. “Tell the driver to speed up.”

He pulled out his phone and called. The van’s movement increased, causing us to bounce more. I’d seen a ramp going down by the entrance and wasn’t sure when we’d entered the mall.

“We’re inside.” Louis pulled a map out and showed it to all of us. “We’re five minutes from the theater. We already entered right here.”

Louis slipped his hand down to a green box. “That’s the theater.”

On the outside, the van honked several times. Our driver must’ve been telling shoppers to get out of the way. The van swerved. Gwen fell into me.

“Sorry,” she whispered.

“That’s okay. Stay close to me.” With one hand, I held the bench. I placed my free arm around her waist to keep her close to me as the van swerved again.

Louis pointed at one of the entrances in the green box. “We get in and out right here.”

“How are we doing that again?” I asked.

“Follow the plan and it will be fine,” Jean-Pierre claimed. “I go in before you and ask to talk to Eden. I get to her. I tell her to run. I cover you all as you grab her.”

Suicidal.

I tried to save the situation. “What if we tell Kazimir that we lost his mouse—”

“He wouldn’t believe that she escaped.” Louis shook his head. “And even if we did, how could we prove it? And even if we could, how can we be sure that Kazimir won’t kill Eden, because he’s pissed at Jean-Pierre.”

“I still don’t know how Jean-Pierre is going to—”

“Your job is to grab Eden, Rafael. I’ll get out.” Jean-Pierre scowled. “Focus on her.”

Jean-Pierre glanced at Gwen and Louis. “Everyone remember their positions?”

The van swerved. We bumped to the left. Gwen remained close to my side. Her perfume scent filled my nose. That fragrance had been soothing me on the balcony. Now I wished I had a bottle of it for later. Something bad could happen in these next moments.

If anything, we could save Eden, but what about Jean-Pierre?

I shouldn’t have, but I pulled Gwen in closer, inhaling her some more. Wanting to escape in her flesh and forget the world.

The van stopped.

Damn it. I’d almost left this moment for a second.

Jean-Pierre’s men opened the door. Gwen put on sunglasses. She’d taken a wig from Natalie’s room that looked close to Emily’s hairstyle. It was the best we could do under the circumstances.

Fucking suicidal. Goddamn it.

It was odd leaving the van. Nature to a building. The bright lights shined in my eyes, after being in that dark van.

Fast, seven of my guys appeared at the van. They must’ve already been here. Half of them followed me. Others walked off with Jean-Pierre. Louis and Gwen came out next. Louis’ men surrounded them.

Here we go.

Russians flanked the outside of the theater and glared at us. No guns out, but I knew they had weapons. As long as they thought we had the Mouse, we would not be harmed.

Too bad we don’t have her.

All our men surrounded our van, not giving the Russians a clear view of Jean-Pierre or Gwen.

I’m really doing this with his crazy ass.

We walked forward.

Our men gathered in a circle around us.

We just have to get inside. If any of the men realize that it’s not the Mouse and contact Kazimir before we get into the theater, then we’re fucked.

We entered. Thirty men deep into a theater full of Russians. The smell of popcorn filled the air. My stomach growled. Gwen held my hand.

Louis whispered to her on his side, “Let his hand go, Gwen. You’re Emily now.”

“That’s right.” Gwen dropped it.

I gritted my teeth. At least with Gwen’s hand in mine, I could keep her safe. I switched spots with Louis. Now she stood behind Louis and Jean-Pierre. Five men walked in front. Three on each side. And close to twenty behind us.

I barely took anything in as we made it to theater 7.

All I could hear was my heart. All I could think about, was death and getting everyone out alive.

We waited as half of our men entered. There were close to fifteen of our heavy shooters from all over the world. One of them could knock out five guys in a minute on a sunny day. As they entered, I wondered how they would do it in this theater.