Page 215 of The Wicked

“No. God, no,” Chika said, looking like he was surprised we were having this conversation.

Dog blinked. “Oh, so that means no one has done it yet. Folks, we can make my future restaurant with that theme. It wouldrock so hard; we could go all dark, maybe not like the dad-pants costume, something sexy?”

“Could work; I like it,”Milk said.

“It would totally sell in a city like Miami. Oh fuck, the beaches and titties.”

“That sounds amazing,” I added.

“What is happening right now,” Chika asked.

“What would you call it, though?”Upper asked.

“Probably something sexy too, attractive to the eyes. Itsy, bitsy titty,” Dog said.

“Too wordy,” I said.

“Yeah, guys, I don’t think this is the right time for this conversation,” Devil said.

“Oh right, Sauce Boy,” Dog said. “Where were we? Lost track back there with the whole future-planning thing.”

Chika looked just about ready to explode. “You lot are just like him. Never taking me seriously, and they ask me why I grew up with so much malice.”

Dog stepped up. “Okay, Daddy Issues, you got a problem, blow your brains out and go settle it in hell with Daddy Dearest; we don’t give a shit. You either drop your weapon or—”

More cars pulled in, drawing our attention, but staying clear away from people and the school. Men in black coveralls got out of them, guns in hand, pointed right at us.

Chika smiled, eyes coming to settle on me. “You’re done, Street.”

My grip on the gun tightened, gaze burning into Chika’s. “It seems like you have a death wish.”

“One that’s gonna get passed on to you and your man friend if you don’t drop your weapons and do as we say.”

“Man friend? Who saysman friend?” Dog asked.

“I’m not on no jokes, fam!” Chika yelled like a psycho. “I’ll shoot him!”

“Nah, you’re a chicken; you can’t do it,” Dog taunted.

Chika angled his gun towards Dog and pulled the trigger; thesound of the bang was so sharp that the comm in my ear gave a piercing high pitch.

“Fuck!” Dog staggered back, the arm of his shirt torn from the graze of the bullet, blood seeping out of the wound. He glared at Chika. “Motherfucker! You shot me!”

Chika directed the gun to the back of Devil’s head again. “Try me, Bruv. Next one’s in his brain, no cap.”

Gritting my teeth hard, I gestured to Dog to drop his weapon while I slowly dropped mine.

Three men took the liberty of cuffing our hands in front of us, denying us free movement, and probably straining Dog’s wound, based on how he winced.

Chika pushed Devil to us, and Devil righted himself, turning to Chika with a question. “Why agree to help if you had your motive? Why stage your own kidnapping?”

Chika’s gaze fell on me, and he smirked. “Guess I picked up a lil’ somethin’ from Arturo, innit. Who don’t love a bit of dramatics?”

“Why bring us out here at all? Contacting us when you could have gotten all the pieces on your own?” Devil asked.

“Street,”Chika said, “shadows of Italy. Running around the world looking for the original painting. I gotta say, I was disappointed. You lot didn’t know shit about it.”

“Yet you told us.”