Pulp Fiction This Is A Robbery Novels & Stories

For moment, I think of André. I miss him. He would have been a better accomplice in a dangerous task as this. I fear for my life but not enough to remain in Ricco's grip. As I step into view, one of Ricco’s men notices me, eyes widening. I don’t give him a chance to react—I fire a shot, dropping him before he can even reach for his weapon. His partner spins around, but Sophia is faster, disarming him with a quick hit and rendering him unconscious with a precise blow to neck.

I grit out. I crease my leg and attempt to hit the boss to where the sun doesn't shine but the man simply twisted my legs between his without an effort and takes my painful and bloody body totally under his control. I'm fucked up. The thought of not being able to see Robbie anymore is smashing my heart into pieces. Now I realize, how big a mistake I've made to underestimate the Russian mob boss. When the tension of the room becomes so thick like desert air, the door burst open tearing it and making our heads snap to the direction, except the Russian beauty.

Rob is driving and Roxy sits in the passenger seat. "We are going to sell some of our goods to the local businessman," Rob said, confusing Beatrix. She can't wrap her head around what good he is talking about as she doesn't know what kind of business a mafia gang does other than killing and drugs. Maybe they are going to sell drugs. " Oh! So we are going to sell or buy drugs!" Beatrix asked with a laugh like it's not a big deal but inside she is dreading the entire situation and how she is taking a part in it but she wants to be with Ricardo in his revenge game.

They sat him down in front of the Don. "What happened, Capheus?" the Don asked, his voice was calm but heavy with meaning. The Don waved his hand, dismissing his men. Once the room was empty, he looked at Capheus again. "Tell me." Capheus, struggling with pain, took a deep breath. "We were robbing the bank when the cops showed up. I tried to run, but they shot me; once in the leg, once in the waist. I barely made it to the van, but we got away."

It was just another way for them to try and disorient people, Adira supposed, to keep them obediently following orders. There were two very powerful emotions: fear and confusion; scare someone enough and they will do what you say, even if they know it’s wrong, confuse people enough and they won’t know what is right. The warehouse doctors employed both tactics, among others, with great success. Even Adira was compliant at first, too scared of what they might do to her if she refused. They clearly had broken morals, if any at all, and she worried what that would turn punishment into when they were already so cruel. They made one mistake, though. They took Brax. They took her brother.

The shrill cry of a siren in the distance interrupted that, and the robbers exchanged prolonged glances. Somehow, knowing that the cops were coming did nothing to assuage my fears. To make matters worse, one of the patrons suddenly raised his head. The closest thief to him yelled a string of words in French, and his hand moved swiftly. The butt of his gun slammed onto the man's forehead, and the man slumped back down. A frightened scream was released into the air close to him, and the thief’s hand went out again. Another dull thud and silence followed.

I leaned down, close enough that only he could hear me. “Don’t fight it,” I said quietly. His good eye widened. Maybe he heard mercy in my voice. Maybe he heard none at all. Then I straightened, lifted the gun, and put a bullet through his head. The shot cracked through the cellar and bounced off stone. Marco went still immediately. That much, at least, I gave him. For a second no one moved. The smell of powder spread slow and sharp through the room. Then the Don exhaled in satisfaction.

His head jerked back as he collapsed into the bed, the sheets soaking up the red liquid that leaked out of him. I carefully peeked out the door, the first guy was on a phone call, his eyes trained on the floor. "Yes, we found the girl." I heard him say. Kaila's eyes slowly lifted back to the hallway, I gave her a thumbs up and motioned towards the first guy. "We want our money first, or else we'll be fine before your guys get here." He scowled and hung up. Whatever time we thought we had was gone with that statement. I guessed the client's guys would be on the level of those that took robbed the Colgate University museum or probably higher.

One man lay slumped against a stack of wooden crates, his throat carved so deeply that blood had soaked through his shirt and pooled beneath him. Another was sprawled face-first beside an overturned table, one arm twisted unnaturally behind his back. Several more were scattered throughout the warehouse, each killed with frightening precision. There were signs of a serious fight, with bullets embedded in the walls and shattered wood everywhere. “They were taken out fast,” one of my men muttered behind me. “Fuck,” I muttered, crouching beside the nearest body, which was still warm. “Who the hell did this?” One of my men called out from the far corner. “Boss! Over here.”

bright and indifferent, like nothing down there had changed even though my entire world was tilting. I sat back down and pulled up the police report I’d saved years ago. The one that never added up, no witnesses. Camera conveniently out, bullet to the back of the head, execution style. They called it robbery anyway because it was easier. “Fuck you,” I whispered at the screen. At all of them. Dante with his warm smiles and perfect memory, Nico with his control. Matteo with his quiet honesty that still hid knives. Voss, whoever the hell he really was.