Junior and Paris handled things with a military precision, using hand signals as they entered the foyer to communicate that they spotted some of X’s men nearby. One of those men came to the foyer, and Paris took him down with a quick burst before we stormed the living room, killing all but one of the men in there. Junior snatched him up like a rag doll.
“Where are they? Where are my brother and my cousin?” Junior’s voice would have sent chills down the spine of any normal person, but this man clamped his mouth shut, refusing to answer. Junior whacked the guy over the head with his gun, sending him slumping to the floor.
At the sound of a disturbance, another soldier came rushing in, gun raised. Before I could take the shot, Paris landed a cluster right in his midsection.
“Good shot,” I called out just as I took out another one of X’s men who appeared at the top of the staircase.
“Fan out,” Paris told our men. They all did what they were told, moving from room to room in pairs, taking out X’s men on the first floor. Junior headed up the stairs in front of Paris and me. Two quick shots later, we heard bodies falling.
At the top of the stairs, there were three doors, the first of which was locked. Paris and I stood with our guns pointed at the other doors, ready to shoot, while Junior slammed his size eighteens into the first door, spraying the two gun-toting men hiding inside. It turned out no one was in the second room, but like the first room, the third room was locked. Tiptoeing up to it, Junior placed his ear against the third door. He jumped back, signaling to us that he’d heard movement.
With Paris and Junior on either side of the door, weapons ready, I ran up to that door, slamming my foot against it as hard as I could. The frame shattered upon impact. Don’t ask me how, but Paris’s overzealous behind scooted right past me, killing two assailants in no time. Junior and I rushed in and finished off the third. As bad-ass as Paris was, she softened up, squealing like a girl when she spotted the woman tied up on the makeshift bed.
“Sasha!” I could see the relief on Paris’s face. She and Sasha must have been close.
When Paris ripped the tape off Sasha’s mouth, the first thing Sasha said was, “Vegas! He’s in the basement with X.”
Before she finished her sentence, I was out of the room and headed for stairs, with Junior on my heels.
“Anybody go into the basement yet?” Junior questioned the second we hit the first floor. Two of our guys led us to the kitchen, where Kareem and James were having a firefight with at least one of X’s guys, who’d barricaded himself in the basement.
“Is it X?” I asked.
“I don’t think so,” Kareem replied. “But whoever it is, they’ve got themselves barricaded in, so we can’t go down the stairs without taking a bullet.”
“What the fuck’s the hold up?” We all turned to see Paris and Sasha standing behind us, holding guns. Junior quickly explained the situation to them, and Paris glanced over at Sasha. Whatever she communicated in that look, Sasha understood it, because without a word the two of them stripped their shirts and bras off like they were about to go on stage. I watched as both tucked their guns behind their backs and forced their way past us to the basement door.
“Move,” Paris said to a still-stunned Kareem and James, who did exactly what they were told.
I turned to Junior and said, “We really going to let them do this?”
“Dee, I’ve seen these two pull more rabbits out of their hats than Houdini himself. It’s a damn shame us dudes are so weak.”
“Hey, baby, please don’t shoot. I just want to talk,” Paris said sweetly before they headed downstairs.
I think I was holding my breath the whole time, until I heard a single shot. A few seconds later, Paris called up to us, “Y’all coming down or what? And someone bring us our tops. It’s cold as shit down here.”
I glanced at Junior, and he said with a smirk, “Told you.”