Read The Purest of the Breed (The Community) for Free Online Page B

man’s affection for her, but it would be stupider still to refuse his rescue.
    Without another word, her champion led her to the door.
    She heard the Russian general make a thoughtful noise in his throat. “Who is that man, Brătianu?”
    Ion released a pent breath. “That, sir, would be Grigore Nichita.”

 
    Chapter Five
     
    Present: Topside, 4:37 a.m.
     
    “Oh, God, not more .” Icy sweat broke out over Marissa’s flesh as the rusted-out, one-eyed Honda Civic and the green Ford Taurus careened onto the road behind the Impala. Three cars total, lots of bad guys in each.
    “Shitfuckpiss!” Dev cursed. “Stay back!” he ordered the three women.
    Marissa pressed her aching spine against the van’s metal siding, hiding as best she could behind the one closed door. Tears welled into her eyes. This night sucked so bad.
    The Impala gunned closer, almost ramming their bumper. Red-haired Tøllar chin-upped himself out of the passenger-side window and jumped onto the hood of the car, riding it like a surfboard. He cocked his arm back, preparing to throw something.
    “Bătaie Blade!” Bull Tattoo Gábor shouted in warning.
    Dev slammed his shoulder up against his side of the van to get out of the way as, whoosh , a knife sliced inside and imbedded in the back of the Dodge’s passenger-side seat. A second later, whomp , the seat exploded.
    “Jay-sus!” Sedge the driver batted at the cloud of yellow foam balls and vinyl pieces floating around him. It looked like Winnie the Pooh had just stepped on a land mine.
    Tink-plink-tink-tink .
    Someone inside the Impala was peppering the van with bullets. Marissa ducked further into the shadows, not that there was anywhere to go, and squinted her eyes at the driver of the Impala. It was the neo-Nazi Bat Man Dev had thrown a knife at over by—
    Tink . “Aargh!” Dev’s rifle flew out of his hands, hit the van floor, and smoked from its bullet wound. Dev shook his hand. “Fuck.”
    “That’s what you get”—Gábor grabbed the interior metal frame as the van swerved hard to the right—“for stabbing Krølan.”
    Marissa pitched over into Hadley. Did these guys know each other? This was so bizarre. She scrambled upright as whizzzz — plink . A bullet hole materialized in the front windshield.
    “Shit on a stick!” Sedge glared over his shoulder at the men in back. “Do you think maybe you assholes could shoot those dickheads already!?”
    They all lurched as the Impala rammed their bumper.
    “It’s called a gas pedal,” Thomal yelled back. “Do you think maybe you could use it some time soon?!”
    “This thing drives like a fucking cow, dammit, and that Impala has a V8.”
    Marissa screamed, not caring who had what. Tøllar had just leapt from the hood of the Impala into the Dodge and socked Dev hard in the gut.
    Grunting, Dev ducked the next blow, then kicked Tøllar out of the van with a booted foot rammed in his gut.
    The Impala veered sharply to avoid his somersaulting body.
    The half-blind Civic shot forward to take its place.
    Tøllar staggered to his feet and sprinted for the Impala.
    Marissa exhaled roughly. My God, were these bad guys made out of an indestructible alloy?
    With a neat flick of his wrist, Dev threw a knife at the escaping Tøllar. It flipped end over end through the night, the glint of streetlights racing along its length, then buried hilt-deep in Tøllar’s butt.
    Tøllar hollered and arched.
    “Oh, ho,” Dev laughed, “the quarterback is toast. That’ll show you, Tøllar, you dildo.” He kept laughing. “Won’t be sitting for a week.”
    Marissa stared at Dev, watching him laugh in the middle of this tornado. He had one of those Bruce Willis laughs, the kind that’s filled with a delight over life’s ironies, even when the world was falling apart around him. “You didn’t kill him,” she observed.
    “What?” Dev glanced at her. “Tøllar?” He shrugged. “Just returning the favor, I guess. He hasn’t killed me a time