The Red Boots 11/11
Title: The Red Boots
Rating: R
Warning: Swearing, violence
Fandom: Mint Royale AU
Disclaimer: Nothing recogniseable belongs to me.
AC: Thankyou to everyone who's read this and reviewed this, means a lot to me. I hope you've enjoyed this as much as I've enjoyed writing this. xxxx Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to PEACHES tonight.
Chapter Ten
Run Baby, run.
Run.
It waited until the last minute to go to shit, as all spectacular mistakes do.
The sports bag was taught in Nick’s grasp as he followed Art down the corridor.
The younger man had a jump in his step, he couldn’t help but notice and he was certain that if Art was able to kick his heels together he would. All things considered Nick was glad he didn’t as they neared the edge of the vault perimeter and back into the main bank - one step closer to freedom.
He felt Art’s hand on his arm as the younger man stopped before the turn into the main floor and out of the lower sectors, and Nick waited as he leant around the edge, marking their road to freedom. He could feel the seconds draining through their fingers like sand. Six minutes twenty seven seconds they were covered for and that was cutting it so close to the bone it wasn’t worth it. They were five minutes down now - five minutes thirteen, five minutes fourteen, five minutes fifteen - and they had less than two to get out. The room was still empty as they made their way out into the open and down towards the front door. He was still running that same line through his head as when Art had told them what they were doing. How they were planning on leaving. Through the front door.
Mental they were. Ten days later and he was still walking right out the front door. When the cops were coming. Des’ voice crackling in his ear.
The glass was still glinting with the offset of the streetlights, the last droplets of rain scattered across the surface of the glass. His brain echoed with the sound of their breathing, of their shoes on the tiles - his own soft squeak and the persistent click of those stupid red boots. Why Art had insisted on wearing them here Nick still didn’t know. He didn’t want to know.
As they neared the doors he fancied he could vaguely hear the drilling hum of the car before they’d even touched the glass, even though it was supposed to be idling out the front, perfectly timed to let them in.
They were halfway across the main floor when Des’ voice crackled in their earpieces in a flustered panic.
”Cops picked up on me, I got a tail. You fuckers better leg it!”
In that second Nick felt a strange adrenaline fuelled panic erupt in his stomach at the same time he recognised the same feeling flash in Art’s eyes. Their steps doubled time as they crossed the rest of the floor and straight out the doors into the street without thought.
“This way!” Art’s voice echoed in his ears as the younger man started running along the footpath, weaving around the bustle of people walking along the street heading home from eight hours hard work. The younger man could run, faster than Nick had thought and it was only the bobbing red hair that kept Nick’s eyes trained on him as he followed through. He was larger and had a harder time weaving and dodging the gaggle of people wandering up the street at half six at night. His heart was pounding in his ears as he wove between a bunch of kids in some fluoro monstrosities they called clothing and down an adjoining alley to catch sight of Art breathing hard against the car.
“I can’t get the keys,” Art panted as Nick neared him, he was fiddling in his back pocket as Nick reached the passenger door. Art was still struggling with it.
“Bloody bag’s in the way.”
“Fucking hell,” Nick swore, running around the back of the car and wrenching aside the bag, shoving his hand into Art’s back pocket. It took a second for him to realise that the sound echoing in his ears then was Art laughing.
“Shut up and get in the other side.”
“You sure you wanna drive, Nicky?” he smirked, but he was walking around the other side of the car anyway as Nick shoved the key in the door and unlocked it. Wrenching the door open he pulled the bag off his shoulder and shoved it behind him as he slid into the front seat before leaning over to unlock Art’s door, as he sat back up he slid one hand down the side of the seat and found the leaver to push the seat back so he could fit. Possibly he should have just let the other man drive. But as he pulled the door shut to the sound of wailing sirens so close he could almost feel the glare of the lights on his back, he started the engine, revving the accelerator before Art had the chance to close his door. It didn’t matter now, he was driving; all they needed was to get away. They were parked on a good street, long enough to gain enough speed and with several exit points away from the bank. However, what they hadn’t been counting on was unmarked cars being parked at strategic cross points all around the city grid to keep an eye out during the exchange. That had been one measure they hadn’t thought would continue any longer than the drop off. It clicked home how wrong they were the moment he took off around a corner.
”You fuckers out of there?” Des’ voice echoed in Nick’s ear as he swore, slamming his foot harder on the accelerator as the unmarked black sedan they hadn’t seen as they came around the corner pulled out into traffic, a siren suddenly blaring from the dashboard as they gave chase, catching them out on the main road despite the stream of public traffic.
“We’re working on it Des,” Nick muttered.
”Well make sure you work hard enough to lose them, cause I bloody well can’t. I dunno if I can lose em. Best to lose the earpieces boys. Can’t connect us if we can’t.”
“Done, good luck Des,” Art said and Nick turned to look at him as the other man pulled out his earpiece and wound down the window, the air rushing in far too loud but not loud enough to drown out the sound of Nick’s own heart as he watched Art toss the piece.
“Pass me yours,” he asked, palm out waiting for Nick to take one hand off the wheel and toss him the earpiece. Changing gear, Nick wove around another car and then slid between another two in an attempt to break the distance between them and the cops right behind them. The gap between them widened but not as far as he’d hoped as it made to overtake the other car.
“We need to get off the main road, we can lose them in the alleys,” Art said darkly as Nick wove around another car and broke out onto a stretch of bare road. The moment the cops followed there was an open volley of shots that had them both swearing.
“How are they allowed to do that. Fuck!” Nick swore, swerving to avoid another volley. Art’s mouth was a grim line as he wound his window down again. As he twisted in his seat Nick caught sight of his gun gripped in the younger man’s hand before he was leaning out the window.
“What are you doing?” Art stopped and looked at Nick, his eyes weren’t glinting and it was clear this wasn’t fun, for everything Art didn’t take seriously this was being taken dead on.
“Giving them a taste,” Art murmured before his head disappeared out the window and there was the sound of four shots in succession bouncing around between Nick’s ears.
“They’re still at it,” Art said, breathing hard through his nose as he pulled himself back in the car and checked the magazine.
“I missed. The car’s moving too fast.”
“You want me to slow down?” Nick asked, incredulous.
“That’d be nice,” Art said, genuinely, before his head was back out the window and Nick forced his foot off the accelerator, feeling the car take a breath of relief that tensed again as he neared another car and he sped up again. Handling her around the other car was easy, but his instinct was still to keep his foot slammed down, regardless of the circumstances as Art pulled himself back in, all too suddenly.
“What are you doing?” he scowled, his voice squeaking in indignation.
“There was a car. I overtook it. Trying to lose them.” Nick scowled, catching sight of a turn off just ahead. Slowing down a little as he neared it, he handed the car over the corner rather than around it before he sped up again. One thing an old friend had told him, if there’s a short cut, take it.
“Warn me before you do that,” Art said, faint annoyance in his voice as Nick wove across another corner and down a small alley. It was a bad move that he instantly regretted as he saw how long and narrow it was. There was only one way down it, and it was a long way. He knew it was coming before it happened, but it didn’t stop him swearing at the quick succession of shots that smashed the back window, showering the back seat in glass, bouncing the tiny squares down between his back and the seat.
“They’re not backing off.”
“Then lose them.” Art muttered, as Nick changed gear again and the car protested feebly.
“No, wait. I’m going to try something,” Art continued, twisting in his seat again. Nick eyed him warily as he twisted himself all the way around.
“When I count to three I want you to put your foot on the break as hard as you can. Put the bloody hand break on for all I care. I want you to stop the car.”
“Are you insane? You’re insane.”
“Do it.” Art said and there was a conviction in his voice and a fierce glint in his blazing blue eyes that had Nick waiting for his signal. They were on the run, he was the one who had driven down this stupid alley and this was their only chance to get away. It was the closest Nick had ever been to capture. It was the closest Nick had ever been to something truly spectacular. If nothing else, they had made it out of the bank with the money. History would be made in keeping it.
The seconds counted by as Nick rattled the poor car further down the one way lane, they were about two thirds of the way down as Art gave the word.
“Now,” he almost shouted and as Nicholas slammed his foot down on the break, forcing the car to a stop with a screech that slammed Art and Nicholas forward in their seats with a bruising gasp. Nick watched in the mirror as it forced the cops into doing the same, slamming their breaks on. The cop car twisted and slid along the side of the lane just as two distinct shots echoed through the car along with a congratulatory hiss from Art. Not that it lasted.
“Go!” Art all but shouted not a second later, but by then Nick had changed gear again and pressed his foot down hard, slamming the car forward with a tiny gasping breath. Nicholas couldn’t help the laughter bubbling out of his throat as he settled back in his seat, glancing at the immobile cop car getting smaller behind them as they pulled out of the alley and into the oncoming traffic.
But the laughter in his throat died abruptly with an echoing grinding crunch of screaming metal as an oncoming car slammed into them before they had the chance to completely turn out of the alley. The world spun in a whirlwind of colour and an ear splitting screech of metal and the vague sound of Art’s voice lost in the cacophony. The car spun, building its own momentum to come to a shattering stop against something that stretched high above them and centred the entire car against something no smaller than his own head. An electricity pole, maybe. His ears were ringing as they came to a halt underpinned by the shocking silence after the noise and the sudden stillness between them. There was a dull pain pulsing in his legs and he could barely catch his breath as he stared as his hands, torn but still grasping the steering wheel with a force he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to let go.
Only one thing brought his mind back to earth: the sound of Art’s belligerent swearing as he pushed at his door and the metal gave way under his pressure and cried out in pain as it swung open and the younger man clamoured out his side of the wreck.
His movements felt slow and sluggish as Nick pushed against his own door, a second passing before he felt anything happen. He knew though, he knew they had to go - they had to run. The sand was almost all the way out of the top of the hourglass. Art was shouting something at him, he couldn’t understand. The pain in his leg peaked as he set one foot out of the car and tried to pull the rest of his weight out behind it. It didn’t work and it took a precious moment for him to re-establish what he’d done to their operation they didn’t have.
He could hear Art swearing as he was contorting himself to reach back and pull out the sports bags they’d constructed this whole stupid expedition to fill full of money they didn’t really need. And now what? There was yelling going on somewhere but then all of a sudden before he could process it all there was a firm hand on his shoulder and a heavy bag pressed into his grasp and the hand suddenly pulled at him and he blinked away the confusion and brought Art’s stupidly constructed face into focus. There was a cut above one of his eyes and it was bleeding all the way down the side of his face, but the word that ripped from his lips rippled through Nick.
“Run.”
So he did.
The pounding in his head started to lessen as they dodged around the side of the car, in the time it had taken their car to stop, the cops had closed the gap between their own car with its flat tyre and dinted bumper and the wreck half wrapped around the telegraph pole. Not that it mattered how close they were. What mattered was broadening the distance. In the wake of his pounding head he became more aware of the sound of his own ragged breathing and without the pounding to distract him and the faint lessening of the fear fuelled adrenaline in his blood stream he felt each jolt of pain that started in his leg as it hit the concrete with each step. He could hear the sound of Art’s own harsh breathing and the click of those stupid shoes as he ran in front. The bag strung over Nick’s shoulder was heavy and cumbersome and his brain unhelpfully wondered just how much of a hindrance it was to the slip of a man running in front of him. And he wasn’t even sure how hurt Art was after the crash. They hadn’t time to establish that. It was all about the running, from the moment they escaped the car.
Art dashed around the corner a block away from the car and Nick tore around after him, it was a long narrow lane similar to the one they’d trapped the cops in, and he was about to question Art’s directions as the younger man darted across the road and through a gap between the first building and the second that formed the barrier along both sides of the road.
“Hurry up - “ Art gasped as Nick attempted to squeeze through. He took a breath and tried to follow suit but the gap wasn’t big enough. Taking a step back he tried again from a different angle but the bag was too much and he forced himself to stop and pull the bag off his shoulder. He could see Art through the gap, his chest rising in short sharp gasps and his eyes wide as he swore at him to hurry. Holding it high he pushed the bag through first, not waiting to hear the thump as it hit the concrete on the other side before he tried to contort his own body through the gap again. It was still a tight fit and the jagged bricks scraped along his skin as his shirt wore up at the back but it didn’t matter. The moment he was through he was bending down to pick up the bag and Art’s hand was on his arm and pulling him forward.
They were in the back end of a car park, the back blocked off by the back street wall to keep people out - not that it mattered. Their footsteps pounded around them as they tore across it, each step was jarring up his leg now and it was becoming harder to move. Harder to keep the pace up.
“Hurry up!” Art panted at him as he lead the way around the first half and into an open space. There were two cars dotted around but it was an empty lot, more designed for days when there were more cars than they had room for either of the multistorey structures on either side of it, like when all the soccer mum’s parked on the grass around the pitch.
“Nick, fucking run,” Art swore and took off across the gap and into the second structure. Each step was building the pain and the strength in his leg was waning. They needed to get away, and soon. One thing he didn’t like to admit to was weakness, but this was one weakness he couldn’t ignore. They needed to get out.
Breathing deep he ran after Art into the second structure, each step becoming a hobble. He’d barely made it across the first lane marked out in faded white paint before he stumbled, pain jolting up his leg and causing him to stop, hissing under his breath as the pain shot up his leg, crippling him for a moment. When he opened his eyes Art was standing in front of him, looking at him with apprehension and his lip between his teeth.
“You alright?” Nick just took another deep breath, staring at him; the way his hair scattered from his crown, an utter mess that framed his face, the brilliant red bringing out the flush in his cheeks against the shallow pale, the brilliant of his lips he kept gnawing, the streak of blood stealing down the side of his face. Taking in how his eyeliner was smudged under his lashes, how his chest was heaving from running, how he had one hand clenched around the sports bag, the other holding his side, red and sticky with blood, holding back his own pain.
How his toes pointed inwards just a little in those stupid pointed red boots.
“My leg’s out for service. We need to hotwire something or you’re gonna have to go without me.”
Art was quiet only a moment and he didn’t even look at Nick as he spoke, turning back away from him and his stupid shoes clicking on the cement as he ran across the lane to the nearest car.
“Best get this beauty wired then shan’t I?” he called back. Nick hissed as he tried to stand up straight again, the air in his lungs burning as he watched Art by the car, knelt in front of the door with two pins he pulled from his back pocket. He was leaning in close, twisting the two pieces of metal as he tried to pick the lock. Nick tensed as he picked up the sound of something in the distance. The wail of sirens.
“Hurry up - “ he called and received an annoyed grunt in response.
“They’re coming!”
“I heard them.” Art called back, distracted by his work. There was a click as the door gave way and Art cried out in glee as he stood up and opened the door. He slid his bag off his shoulder and slid into the front seat. Nick made an attempt to hobble closer. The sounds of the cops were growing. They needed to get out. They needed to get out minutes ago.
“Art.”
“I’m working on it.”
“Art - “
“I can hear them.”
“Art, shut up,” Art stopped then, and turned to lean out of the car.
“What?”
“You’re going to have to go without me, I can’t make it with you.” Art’s eyes narrowed at his words. “Nick - “
“If you don’t go you’ll get caught. I’m slowing you down.”
“I don’t care,” he said fiercely and Nicholas felt a sudden rush of affection that almost brought a smile to his lips. Illogical and possibly a little hysterical - definitely out of place. But a smile.
Naturally, Art ignored him.
“I’m almost done. Besides, we’re both fucked.” He moved his jacket aside and Nick noticed just how far the pull of his shirt in the sticky wet patch on his abdomen went. Shit.
He sighed, and tried again. He had to try.
“I do care though, you tit. And I know. But if you don’t fuck off we’re both going to get caught and Big’d finally get his revenge. They’d use you as an example. They’d kill you, Andy. You know they would.” He watched as Art bit his lip and Nicholas knew he’d succeeded in putting the idea there. That was good enough for now. Art knew why there had been a new run of currency, to lure out the Rebels, and take as many of them in as possible, and then, Berry would move in and take them out.
“My leg won’t hold me anymore, Art. And you won’t be able to get this car out of here, not with the cops out there. We need to get away on foot. And I’m not going any further.” He could see the tiny break in Art’s conviction, catching his lip between his teeth and the tiny flicker of his eyes before he looked back up and met Nick’s gaze head on again.
“It’s about time I get nabbed, Nicky - I’ve been doing this for long enough.“
“I don’t care. Go, Andy.”
The name was the clincher, Nick had been hoping it would be.
Art was quiet; his gaze tore from Nicholas’ at the sound of the cops getting closer. There was a loud bang and then his eyes came back to Nick’s.
“I’ll get you out.” The conviction in his voice this time swore something far deeper than Nicholas could comprehend. Art’s words were desperate as he got out of the car. He was quiet for a moment as he slid his sportsbag of hard won earnings over his shoulder. Nick let his slip to the ground.
“I don’t care what it takes, I’ll get you out,” Art swore again. Another sound echoing back at them from their approaching captors. Nick watched Art as he took three steps away from him before he turned around and ran back, grabbing the front of Nick’s shirt and pressed his lips furiously against Nick’s own before he had the chance to tell him off. The sports bag bumped oddly between them both as Art kissed him. It was a kiss of desperation but it sealed the promise; it was reminiscent of that first night, echoing the feeling of the second, giving Nick something they both wanted rather than just taking it because they could. Swearing something impossible.
“I promise, Nicky,” he whispered as he pulled away and as Nick opened his eyes to catch just one last flicker of fiery blue before all he could see was Art’s disappearing back, one sports bag over one shoulder and the other clutched in his other hand, the sound of his boots on concrete echoing back at Nick.
He took a sharp breath in through his nose and waited, trying to push the pain down deeper so that the sound of Art leaving and the officers moving in opposite directions pushed itself to the back of his brain and he could think. But the sound was there; Art away, and jail moving forwards. They’d been so close, they’d been so, so close to getting away completely; and it had been him who had fucked up. He had screwed up and was about to get himself locked away and despite every second guess about Art’s intentions, he had been willing to give himself up so that Nick wouldn’t be at it alone. His voice still echoing in Nick’s ears.
It’s about time i get nabbed, Nick. I’ve been running long enough.
The pounding was getting louder as it got closer. Nick closed his eyes and waited. What did he owe Art that he was willing to give up the most precious thing any of the Rebels had - their freedom? He couldn’t come up with an answer. What had he given him except for so much lack of trust and a fierce sense of curiosity? Art had been the one obsessed with him, he was the reason Nick had heard of the job, had got this far, and it had been nothing on Art’s part that had got them into this mess. And despite two days of fucking, Art had been willing to give up himself, after years of running, he’d been willing to throw himself away because of Nick. The information barely had time to sink in before the parking garage exploded in the sharp sound of wailing sirens and slamming doors. Pointed and sharp under the fierce gleam of Big Smith’s eyes, staring at Nick with a cruel smile on his lips as he slid out of his car, slamming the door behind him. He was smirking as he marched towards Nick, the room echoing with the collective sound of shouting and footsteps and the barking order to keep looking.
They’d been closer than Nick had anticipated. Closer than Art had thought, too.
But he’d got away, regardless.
“Glad you’ve made this easy, Nicholas,” Big smiled as he limped towards Nick. He was wearing this stupid checked suit that almost made Nick laugh, his hair greasy and unkempt. It would have been a bad look for the day his career finally peaked had Art followed through and stayed.
Nick settled for a smile as he watched the officers run in every direction, searching for Art. Nick’s smile grew. They didn’t have a chance. He was gone, surely. No matter how close they were he knew how to disappear. He was long gone.
“Only for you, Big,” Nick smiled, squaring his shoulders as he turned to face the big man and offer his hands out for the handcuffs clutched in the older man’s pudgy fingers.
And the way Big’s eyes shone in a way that Nick could only narrow down to anger, it was clear in that moment Big knew Art was long gone as well.
***
FIN
Continued in Red Boots, Black Soul.
Here
Rating: R
Warning: Swearing, violence
Fandom: Mint Royale AU
Disclaimer: Nothing recogniseable belongs to me.
AC: Thankyou to everyone who's read this and reviewed this, means a lot to me. I hope you've enjoyed this as much as I've enjoyed writing this. xxxx Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to PEACHES tonight.
Chapter Ten
Run Baby, run.
Run.
It waited until the last minute to go to shit, as all spectacular mistakes do.
The sports bag was taught in Nick’s grasp as he followed Art down the corridor.
The younger man had a jump in his step, he couldn’t help but notice and he was certain that if Art was able to kick his heels together he would. All things considered Nick was glad he didn’t as they neared the edge of the vault perimeter and back into the main bank - one step closer to freedom.
He felt Art’s hand on his arm as the younger man stopped before the turn into the main floor and out of the lower sectors, and Nick waited as he leant around the edge, marking their road to freedom. He could feel the seconds draining through their fingers like sand. Six minutes twenty seven seconds they were covered for and that was cutting it so close to the bone it wasn’t worth it. They were five minutes down now - five minutes thirteen, five minutes fourteen, five minutes fifteen - and they had less than two to get out. The room was still empty as they made their way out into the open and down towards the front door. He was still running that same line through his head as when Art had told them what they were doing. How they were planning on leaving. Through the front door.
Mental they were. Ten days later and he was still walking right out the front door. When the cops were coming. Des’ voice crackling in his ear.
The glass was still glinting with the offset of the streetlights, the last droplets of rain scattered across the surface of the glass. His brain echoed with the sound of their breathing, of their shoes on the tiles - his own soft squeak and the persistent click of those stupid red boots. Why Art had insisted on wearing them here Nick still didn’t know. He didn’t want to know.
As they neared the doors he fancied he could vaguely hear the drilling hum of the car before they’d even touched the glass, even though it was supposed to be idling out the front, perfectly timed to let them in.
They were halfway across the main floor when Des’ voice crackled in their earpieces in a flustered panic.
”Cops picked up on me, I got a tail. You fuckers better leg it!”
In that second Nick felt a strange adrenaline fuelled panic erupt in his stomach at the same time he recognised the same feeling flash in Art’s eyes. Their steps doubled time as they crossed the rest of the floor and straight out the doors into the street without thought.
“This way!” Art’s voice echoed in his ears as the younger man started running along the footpath, weaving around the bustle of people walking along the street heading home from eight hours hard work. The younger man could run, faster than Nick had thought and it was only the bobbing red hair that kept Nick’s eyes trained on him as he followed through. He was larger and had a harder time weaving and dodging the gaggle of people wandering up the street at half six at night. His heart was pounding in his ears as he wove between a bunch of kids in some fluoro monstrosities they called clothing and down an adjoining alley to catch sight of Art breathing hard against the car.
“I can’t get the keys,” Art panted as Nick neared him, he was fiddling in his back pocket as Nick reached the passenger door. Art was still struggling with it.
“Bloody bag’s in the way.”
“Fucking hell,” Nick swore, running around the back of the car and wrenching aside the bag, shoving his hand into Art’s back pocket. It took a second for him to realise that the sound echoing in his ears then was Art laughing.
“Shut up and get in the other side.”
“You sure you wanna drive, Nicky?” he smirked, but he was walking around the other side of the car anyway as Nick shoved the key in the door and unlocked it. Wrenching the door open he pulled the bag off his shoulder and shoved it behind him as he slid into the front seat before leaning over to unlock Art’s door, as he sat back up he slid one hand down the side of the seat and found the leaver to push the seat back so he could fit. Possibly he should have just let the other man drive. But as he pulled the door shut to the sound of wailing sirens so close he could almost feel the glare of the lights on his back, he started the engine, revving the accelerator before Art had the chance to close his door. It didn’t matter now, he was driving; all they needed was to get away. They were parked on a good street, long enough to gain enough speed and with several exit points away from the bank. However, what they hadn’t been counting on was unmarked cars being parked at strategic cross points all around the city grid to keep an eye out during the exchange. That had been one measure they hadn’t thought would continue any longer than the drop off. It clicked home how wrong they were the moment he took off around a corner.
”You fuckers out of there?” Des’ voice echoed in Nick’s ear as he swore, slamming his foot harder on the accelerator as the unmarked black sedan they hadn’t seen as they came around the corner pulled out into traffic, a siren suddenly blaring from the dashboard as they gave chase, catching them out on the main road despite the stream of public traffic.
“We’re working on it Des,” Nick muttered.
”Well make sure you work hard enough to lose them, cause I bloody well can’t. I dunno if I can lose em. Best to lose the earpieces boys. Can’t connect us if we can’t.”
“Done, good luck Des,” Art said and Nick turned to look at him as the other man pulled out his earpiece and wound down the window, the air rushing in far too loud but not loud enough to drown out the sound of Nick’s own heart as he watched Art toss the piece.
“Pass me yours,” he asked, palm out waiting for Nick to take one hand off the wheel and toss him the earpiece. Changing gear, Nick wove around another car and then slid between another two in an attempt to break the distance between them and the cops right behind them. The gap between them widened but not as far as he’d hoped as it made to overtake the other car.
“We need to get off the main road, we can lose them in the alleys,” Art said darkly as Nick wove around another car and broke out onto a stretch of bare road. The moment the cops followed there was an open volley of shots that had them both swearing.
“How are they allowed to do that. Fuck!” Nick swore, swerving to avoid another volley. Art’s mouth was a grim line as he wound his window down again. As he twisted in his seat Nick caught sight of his gun gripped in the younger man’s hand before he was leaning out the window.
“What are you doing?” Art stopped and looked at Nick, his eyes weren’t glinting and it was clear this wasn’t fun, for everything Art didn’t take seriously this was being taken dead on.
“Giving them a taste,” Art murmured before his head disappeared out the window and there was the sound of four shots in succession bouncing around between Nick’s ears.
“They’re still at it,” Art said, breathing hard through his nose as he pulled himself back in the car and checked the magazine.
“I missed. The car’s moving too fast.”
“You want me to slow down?” Nick asked, incredulous.
“That’d be nice,” Art said, genuinely, before his head was back out the window and Nick forced his foot off the accelerator, feeling the car take a breath of relief that tensed again as he neared another car and he sped up again. Handling her around the other car was easy, but his instinct was still to keep his foot slammed down, regardless of the circumstances as Art pulled himself back in, all too suddenly.
“What are you doing?” he scowled, his voice squeaking in indignation.
“There was a car. I overtook it. Trying to lose them.” Nick scowled, catching sight of a turn off just ahead. Slowing down a little as he neared it, he handed the car over the corner rather than around it before he sped up again. One thing an old friend had told him, if there’s a short cut, take it.
“Warn me before you do that,” Art said, faint annoyance in his voice as Nick wove across another corner and down a small alley. It was a bad move that he instantly regretted as he saw how long and narrow it was. There was only one way down it, and it was a long way. He knew it was coming before it happened, but it didn’t stop him swearing at the quick succession of shots that smashed the back window, showering the back seat in glass, bouncing the tiny squares down between his back and the seat.
“They’re not backing off.”
“Then lose them.” Art muttered, as Nick changed gear again and the car protested feebly.
“No, wait. I’m going to try something,” Art continued, twisting in his seat again. Nick eyed him warily as he twisted himself all the way around.
“When I count to three I want you to put your foot on the break as hard as you can. Put the bloody hand break on for all I care. I want you to stop the car.”
“Are you insane? You’re insane.”
“Do it.” Art said and there was a conviction in his voice and a fierce glint in his blazing blue eyes that had Nick waiting for his signal. They were on the run, he was the one who had driven down this stupid alley and this was their only chance to get away. It was the closest Nick had ever been to capture. It was the closest Nick had ever been to something truly spectacular. If nothing else, they had made it out of the bank with the money. History would be made in keeping it.
The seconds counted by as Nick rattled the poor car further down the one way lane, they were about two thirds of the way down as Art gave the word.
“Now,” he almost shouted and as Nicholas slammed his foot down on the break, forcing the car to a stop with a screech that slammed Art and Nicholas forward in their seats with a bruising gasp. Nick watched in the mirror as it forced the cops into doing the same, slamming their breaks on. The cop car twisted and slid along the side of the lane just as two distinct shots echoed through the car along with a congratulatory hiss from Art. Not that it lasted.
“Go!” Art all but shouted not a second later, but by then Nick had changed gear again and pressed his foot down hard, slamming the car forward with a tiny gasping breath. Nicholas couldn’t help the laughter bubbling out of his throat as he settled back in his seat, glancing at the immobile cop car getting smaller behind them as they pulled out of the alley and into the oncoming traffic.
But the laughter in his throat died abruptly with an echoing grinding crunch of screaming metal as an oncoming car slammed into them before they had the chance to completely turn out of the alley. The world spun in a whirlwind of colour and an ear splitting screech of metal and the vague sound of Art’s voice lost in the cacophony. The car spun, building its own momentum to come to a shattering stop against something that stretched high above them and centred the entire car against something no smaller than his own head. An electricity pole, maybe. His ears were ringing as they came to a halt underpinned by the shocking silence after the noise and the sudden stillness between them. There was a dull pain pulsing in his legs and he could barely catch his breath as he stared as his hands, torn but still grasping the steering wheel with a force he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to let go.
Only one thing brought his mind back to earth: the sound of Art’s belligerent swearing as he pushed at his door and the metal gave way under his pressure and cried out in pain as it swung open and the younger man clamoured out his side of the wreck.
His movements felt slow and sluggish as Nick pushed against his own door, a second passing before he felt anything happen. He knew though, he knew they had to go - they had to run. The sand was almost all the way out of the top of the hourglass. Art was shouting something at him, he couldn’t understand. The pain in his leg peaked as he set one foot out of the car and tried to pull the rest of his weight out behind it. It didn’t work and it took a precious moment for him to re-establish what he’d done to their operation they didn’t have.
He could hear Art swearing as he was contorting himself to reach back and pull out the sports bags they’d constructed this whole stupid expedition to fill full of money they didn’t really need. And now what? There was yelling going on somewhere but then all of a sudden before he could process it all there was a firm hand on his shoulder and a heavy bag pressed into his grasp and the hand suddenly pulled at him and he blinked away the confusion and brought Art’s stupidly constructed face into focus. There was a cut above one of his eyes and it was bleeding all the way down the side of his face, but the word that ripped from his lips rippled through Nick.
“Run.”
So he did.
The pounding in his head started to lessen as they dodged around the side of the car, in the time it had taken their car to stop, the cops had closed the gap between their own car with its flat tyre and dinted bumper and the wreck half wrapped around the telegraph pole. Not that it mattered how close they were. What mattered was broadening the distance. In the wake of his pounding head he became more aware of the sound of his own ragged breathing and without the pounding to distract him and the faint lessening of the fear fuelled adrenaline in his blood stream he felt each jolt of pain that started in his leg as it hit the concrete with each step. He could hear the sound of Art’s own harsh breathing and the click of those stupid shoes as he ran in front. The bag strung over Nick’s shoulder was heavy and cumbersome and his brain unhelpfully wondered just how much of a hindrance it was to the slip of a man running in front of him. And he wasn’t even sure how hurt Art was after the crash. They hadn’t time to establish that. It was all about the running, from the moment they escaped the car.
Art dashed around the corner a block away from the car and Nick tore around after him, it was a long narrow lane similar to the one they’d trapped the cops in, and he was about to question Art’s directions as the younger man darted across the road and through a gap between the first building and the second that formed the barrier along both sides of the road.
“Hurry up - “ Art gasped as Nick attempted to squeeze through. He took a breath and tried to follow suit but the gap wasn’t big enough. Taking a step back he tried again from a different angle but the bag was too much and he forced himself to stop and pull the bag off his shoulder. He could see Art through the gap, his chest rising in short sharp gasps and his eyes wide as he swore at him to hurry. Holding it high he pushed the bag through first, not waiting to hear the thump as it hit the concrete on the other side before he tried to contort his own body through the gap again. It was still a tight fit and the jagged bricks scraped along his skin as his shirt wore up at the back but it didn’t matter. The moment he was through he was bending down to pick up the bag and Art’s hand was on his arm and pulling him forward.
They were in the back end of a car park, the back blocked off by the back street wall to keep people out - not that it mattered. Their footsteps pounded around them as they tore across it, each step was jarring up his leg now and it was becoming harder to move. Harder to keep the pace up.
“Hurry up!” Art panted at him as he lead the way around the first half and into an open space. There were two cars dotted around but it was an empty lot, more designed for days when there were more cars than they had room for either of the multistorey structures on either side of it, like when all the soccer mum’s parked on the grass around the pitch.
“Nick, fucking run,” Art swore and took off across the gap and into the second structure. Each step was building the pain and the strength in his leg was waning. They needed to get away, and soon. One thing he didn’t like to admit to was weakness, but this was one weakness he couldn’t ignore. They needed to get out.
Breathing deep he ran after Art into the second structure, each step becoming a hobble. He’d barely made it across the first lane marked out in faded white paint before he stumbled, pain jolting up his leg and causing him to stop, hissing under his breath as the pain shot up his leg, crippling him for a moment. When he opened his eyes Art was standing in front of him, looking at him with apprehension and his lip between his teeth.
“You alright?” Nick just took another deep breath, staring at him; the way his hair scattered from his crown, an utter mess that framed his face, the brilliant red bringing out the flush in his cheeks against the shallow pale, the brilliant of his lips he kept gnawing, the streak of blood stealing down the side of his face. Taking in how his eyeliner was smudged under his lashes, how his chest was heaving from running, how he had one hand clenched around the sports bag, the other holding his side, red and sticky with blood, holding back his own pain.
How his toes pointed inwards just a little in those stupid pointed red boots.
“My leg’s out for service. We need to hotwire something or you’re gonna have to go without me.”
Art was quiet only a moment and he didn’t even look at Nick as he spoke, turning back away from him and his stupid shoes clicking on the cement as he ran across the lane to the nearest car.
“Best get this beauty wired then shan’t I?” he called back. Nick hissed as he tried to stand up straight again, the air in his lungs burning as he watched Art by the car, knelt in front of the door with two pins he pulled from his back pocket. He was leaning in close, twisting the two pieces of metal as he tried to pick the lock. Nick tensed as he picked up the sound of something in the distance. The wail of sirens.
“Hurry up - “ he called and received an annoyed grunt in response.
“They’re coming!”
“I heard them.” Art called back, distracted by his work. There was a click as the door gave way and Art cried out in glee as he stood up and opened the door. He slid his bag off his shoulder and slid into the front seat. Nick made an attempt to hobble closer. The sounds of the cops were growing. They needed to get out. They needed to get out minutes ago.
“Art.”
“I’m working on it.”
“Art - “
“I can hear them.”
“Art, shut up,” Art stopped then, and turned to lean out of the car.
“What?”
“You’re going to have to go without me, I can’t make it with you.” Art’s eyes narrowed at his words. “Nick - “
“If you don’t go you’ll get caught. I’m slowing you down.”
“I don’t care,” he said fiercely and Nicholas felt a sudden rush of affection that almost brought a smile to his lips. Illogical and possibly a little hysterical - definitely out of place. But a smile.
Naturally, Art ignored him.
“I’m almost done. Besides, we’re both fucked.” He moved his jacket aside and Nick noticed just how far the pull of his shirt in the sticky wet patch on his abdomen went. Shit.
He sighed, and tried again. He had to try.
“I do care though, you tit. And I know. But if you don’t fuck off we’re both going to get caught and Big’d finally get his revenge. They’d use you as an example. They’d kill you, Andy. You know they would.” He watched as Art bit his lip and Nicholas knew he’d succeeded in putting the idea there. That was good enough for now. Art knew why there had been a new run of currency, to lure out the Rebels, and take as many of them in as possible, and then, Berry would move in and take them out.
“My leg won’t hold me anymore, Art. And you won’t be able to get this car out of here, not with the cops out there. We need to get away on foot. And I’m not going any further.” He could see the tiny break in Art’s conviction, catching his lip between his teeth and the tiny flicker of his eyes before he looked back up and met Nick’s gaze head on again.
“It’s about time I get nabbed, Nicky - I’ve been doing this for long enough.“
“I don’t care. Go, Andy.”
The name was the clincher, Nick had been hoping it would be.
Art was quiet; his gaze tore from Nicholas’ at the sound of the cops getting closer. There was a loud bang and then his eyes came back to Nick’s.
“I’ll get you out.” The conviction in his voice this time swore something far deeper than Nicholas could comprehend. Art’s words were desperate as he got out of the car. He was quiet for a moment as he slid his sportsbag of hard won earnings over his shoulder. Nick let his slip to the ground.
“I don’t care what it takes, I’ll get you out,” Art swore again. Another sound echoing back at them from their approaching captors. Nick watched Art as he took three steps away from him before he turned around and ran back, grabbing the front of Nick’s shirt and pressed his lips furiously against Nick’s own before he had the chance to tell him off. The sports bag bumped oddly between them both as Art kissed him. It was a kiss of desperation but it sealed the promise; it was reminiscent of that first night, echoing the feeling of the second, giving Nick something they both wanted rather than just taking it because they could. Swearing something impossible.
“I promise, Nicky,” he whispered as he pulled away and as Nick opened his eyes to catch just one last flicker of fiery blue before all he could see was Art’s disappearing back, one sports bag over one shoulder and the other clutched in his other hand, the sound of his boots on concrete echoing back at Nick.
He took a sharp breath in through his nose and waited, trying to push the pain down deeper so that the sound of Art leaving and the officers moving in opposite directions pushed itself to the back of his brain and he could think. But the sound was there; Art away, and jail moving forwards. They’d been so close, they’d been so, so close to getting away completely; and it had been him who had fucked up. He had screwed up and was about to get himself locked away and despite every second guess about Art’s intentions, he had been willing to give himself up so that Nick wouldn’t be at it alone. His voice still echoing in Nick’s ears.
It’s about time i get nabbed, Nick. I’ve been running long enough.
The pounding was getting louder as it got closer. Nick closed his eyes and waited. What did he owe Art that he was willing to give up the most precious thing any of the Rebels had - their freedom? He couldn’t come up with an answer. What had he given him except for so much lack of trust and a fierce sense of curiosity? Art had been the one obsessed with him, he was the reason Nick had heard of the job, had got this far, and it had been nothing on Art’s part that had got them into this mess. And despite two days of fucking, Art had been willing to give up himself, after years of running, he’d been willing to throw himself away because of Nick. The information barely had time to sink in before the parking garage exploded in the sharp sound of wailing sirens and slamming doors. Pointed and sharp under the fierce gleam of Big Smith’s eyes, staring at Nick with a cruel smile on his lips as he slid out of his car, slamming the door behind him. He was smirking as he marched towards Nick, the room echoing with the collective sound of shouting and footsteps and the barking order to keep looking.
They’d been closer than Nick had anticipated. Closer than Art had thought, too.
But he’d got away, regardless.
“Glad you’ve made this easy, Nicholas,” Big smiled as he limped towards Nick. He was wearing this stupid checked suit that almost made Nick laugh, his hair greasy and unkempt. It would have been a bad look for the day his career finally peaked had Art followed through and stayed.
Nick settled for a smile as he watched the officers run in every direction, searching for Art. Nick’s smile grew. They didn’t have a chance. He was gone, surely. No matter how close they were he knew how to disappear. He was long gone.
“Only for you, Big,” Nick smiled, squaring his shoulders as he turned to face the big man and offer his hands out for the handcuffs clutched in the older man’s pudgy fingers.
And the way Big’s eyes shone in a way that Nick could only narrow down to anger, it was clear in that moment Big knew Art was long gone as well.
***
FIN
Continued in Red Boots, Black Soul.
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