Angie drove a hard bargain, and Tom found that incredibly attractive. The moment they'd reached the mall, she requested double payment because the manager wasn't only getting her, but Sam and Tom as well. Meanwhile, Sam used his big brain and convinced a local music store owner that lending them a set of drums was awesome publicity because everyone will hear the sound they made.

So Tom got his set of drums and his microphone and got to show off in the middle of a crowded mall in Paris. He'd never entertained such a large crowd, so even when the show was over, the pleasant buzz brought on by adrenaline still ran through his veins.

The crowd had dispersed, the drum set had been removed, but Tom still held the drumsticks, hitting them together in the rhythm of the music on the speakers as he sat on the corner of the stage. Angie sat right below, her back pressed against the stage, counting their money. Only Sam stood, looking around, taking in the glimmering Christmas decorations around them.

"I can't believe how amazing you guys are," he suddenly said.

"We're awesome like that," Tom answered with a grin.

"I mean I knew you could change your voice, but I never imagined you could use it for singing. And Angie..." Sam looked down at her, but she continued counting.

"I think I fell in love with her the moment I heard her sing." The words were out, unfiltered, before he could stop them, but it was the truth.

The night he'd taken her to a dingy beer bar and had her singing karaoke for drinks was the night he realized she just might be a fallen angel. The thing was, even after all this time and all they'd been through, and even if they were together, the feeling hadn't faded. She still was an ethereal mystery to him and he loved every second he spent unraveling her.

She looked up at him, her smile honest and bright, her eyes sparkling like emeralds. "Is this the sixth time?"

"What? I can't believe you're still counting."

"I will until there will be too many to count," she teased, then returned to her actual counting.

"We'll have to steal a car," Sam mumbled. "No one will rent us one without a credit card."

"That's going to put a slight damper on things," Tom said. "The police is the last thing we need."

"The Fraternity don't have cars, do they?" Angie asked.

Tom's stomach tightened and he stopped banging the sticks together. He was still unsure the Fraternity wouldn't be trying to kill them as well. The chance they would actually provide them with means to escape was below zero.

"I honestly don't think so," Sam answered. "Anyway, we should get back. I want to get my hands on a phone and call Kyle."

Angie pocketed the cash and stood. Sam reached out to help her up, but suddenly froze. The tensions hit Tom before he could even process what was going on. In the second it took him to register the crowd shifting and the brutish men making their way towards them, he realized how stupid they'd been.

All that exposure, the attention drawn towards them... They were lucky they hadn't been shot in the head. Angie sensed it too and bent her knees, ready to sprint.

"I think we're surrounded," Tom said.

"We have to split up, divide them," Sam said, his voice tense but strong. "We'll meet outside, as close to here as possible." And before any of them could argue, he darted away, his head bent, heading for the nearest flock of shoppers.

Tom grabbed Angie's hand and pulled her in the opposite direction.

"Wait, what are you doing? Sam said split up," Angie said, but fortunately followed.

"We did. You don't count, remember?" he replied. A part of him screamed that he should let her go because she might be able to slink away, but he couldn't risk it. What if they recognized her?

Angie didn't argue any further and picked up the pace. Three men appeared in front of them, snarls on their faces. Tom couldn't have stopped if he wanted, so he just eased his way between them. They made a grab for him, but their grips weren't strong enough to stop him. Unfortunately, the chase was on.

They turned a few corners, ran up the escalators and finally seemed to lose them, at least for the few seconds it would take them to turn the next corner. Angie suddenly grabbed his hand and pulled him inside the nearest clothing store.

The place was huge with racks upon racks of clothes filling every available space. Angie ducked and slithered between the hangers, pulling him along. He bent too, trying to stay out of sight. Angie stopped for a second, her eyes taking in a circular rack filled with dresses. He opened his mouth to chastise her for window shopping at a time like this, but shut it in shock when she actually pulled out a hanger.

"Wha--?"

Angie shushed him and tugged his arm towards the dressing rooms. She went inside an empty cabin and closed the door once he stepped inside as well.

"Damn, I'll need boots as well," she mumbled.

"Um, what?"

"To go with the dress," she whispered.

"Angie, what are you doing?"

"Trying to find a disguise, idiot."

Oh, right.

"Wait here," she said, and disappeared back into the store. It took her mere seconds to come back with a pair of thigh-high high heel boots. "The goons went across the hall, so we have a small chance to get away if we move fast enough." She dropped the boots on the floor and started wrestling the dress off the hangar.

He knew he should say something, but he couldn't focus. She'd taken her backpack off and was now hanging her winter jacket.

"Turn around."

"What?"

"Turn. Around. Do I need to spell it?"

He turned out of reflex though his brain was still a little dizzy as half of it calculated the probability of Angie's plan working while the other half was trying to get used to the stupidity of the situation. He didn't think it was going to work, and all those boots would do was make it harder for Angie to run.

"Look, they're after me, so you disguising yourself is probably not the best plan," he said turning to her. "It would only--" The rest of the sentence died in his throat as he came to face with Angie's bare back.

She still had her jeans on, but nothing else. Her hair fell over her shoulders, brushing what looked like impossibly soft skin. When he gagged, she glanced over her shoulder. And smiled. Without a word, she pulled the dress over her head, but the undone zipper still left her uncovered.

"As long as you're staring, you could help me zip up."

He didn't want to help her zip up. He continued to stare as she took her jeans off under the dress. The dress was short, so a lot of her legs were showing. She had killer legs.

"Tom. Zip, not drool, please," she said, her voice amused.

She was making fun of him. And he didn't care. All he wanted was to touch her. And why shouldn't he? So he stepped closer, ran his fingers down her back. She shivered and her breath hitched. He turned her around, took his sunglasses off and threw them on the bench.

"Oh, shit," she breathed.

"That's one way to put it," he murmured before his lips found hers.

As usual, it was dangerous and stupid, but the blood rushing through his veins, the raw adrenaline pumping through him was worth it. And despite her much better control, she kissed him back, ran her fingers through his hair. He lifted her off the ground, pressed her against the mirror, ran his hands up her thighs.

She drew in a sharp breath as her bare back touched the cold surface, but she didn't break the kiss, didn't push him away.

"There's two of them, look carefully."

A distant voice fluttered to them from somewhere close.

"Wouldn't it be easier to search every cabin?" another voice asked.

"And have a bunch of women screamin'? Are you an idiot?"

Somewhere deep inside his fuzzy mind, Tom knew he should do something, but he didn't want to. Let the goons catch them at it and he'd make them wish they'd never opened that door. But they didn't. Angie pulled away, trying to keep her pants as silent as possible, and glanced towards the door with wide eyes. Her arms tightened around his neck and her knees squeezed his hips.

The footsteps moved away, and in a minute, everything was silent.

"They're gone," she breathed.

"Let's give them a head start," he whispered and kissed her again.

It took them another few minutes before she pulled away, drawing deep breaths, a smile on her face. "I think we should go now."

"Are you sure?" he never wanted to leave that changing cabin. He wanted to live there forever with her.

Angie grinned, but climbed off him. "We have a bad habit of misting up mirrors." She arranged the hem of her dress and pulled her boots on.

Tom stuffed her clothes in the backpack and swung it over his shoulder, all the while watching her. She looked incredible, hot and confident. And he wished his pulse would stabilize a little because it was making him dizzy, trying to convince him that kissing Angie again was a basic necessity.

"We're fairly well disguised," she said, taking up what looked like a can opener from the front pocket of the backpack and using it to remove the safety pins on the dress and boots.

"I like going shopping with you."

"No, you don't. You like making out with me inside dressing rooms."

He couldn't argue against that.

Hand in hand, they exited the store and made their way towards the exit, walking at a normal pace. People stared at them for some reason. Well, at him, because he could totally see why they were staring at Angie.

"You look like a movie star," he said.

"So do you. That's what I'm counting on. Hiding ourselves in plain sight. We'll just walk out of here and return to headquarters."

"I hope Sam's okay..."

But since there were no gunshots or explosions, Tom hoped his twin had gotten away. Sam had dodged followers in malls before. Twice. So it made him the more experienced in this matter.

They dwindled from time to time as Angie pretended to windowshop. A few stores away from the exit, she stopped again, in front of a jewelry display.

"You're like a magpie. You love shiny stuff," he said.

Angie let out a musical laugh. "True. Though I'm not sure I'm the jewelry wearing type."

"I hope you're not opposed to wearing at least one ring." The phrase was once again out unfiltered and Tom felt like slapping his mouth.

Her face snapped towards him, her eyes wide with wonder. Her lips quirked as if she were about to smile, but then she looked away.

"If we ever get that far, I'm sure I won't."

A painful knot lodged itself in Tom's stomach. "What's that supposed to mean?"

In the second of silence that followed his question, it happened. Tom more like felt than saw anything, but his body moved with amazing instinct. His hands wrapped around Angie's arms and he pulled her to the floor a fraction of a second before the jewelry display exploded.

Shattered glass rained over them. Among panicked screams, two men rushed towards them, guns out and pointing, one of them holding what looked very much like a grenade. Tom pushed Angie to the side, towards the foot of a concrete flower holder, the turned on his back, towards the followers.

The goon pulled the pin from the grenade and rolled it towards him. In the seconds it took it to come in his reach, Tom did some basic math. They wouldn't be throwing a defensive grenade and running towards it. It was an offensive one which meant the explosion range was much smaller. He grabbed it and rolled it back towards them.

With wide eyes and gaping mouths, the two men scurried out of the way. Tom didn't get to. The explosion tossed him back in a mixture of plaster chips and hot air. He hit his back against the flower holder and gagged as the breath was knocked out of him.

He rolled on his stomach, his muscles tense and painful, his lungs filled with dust and ash. A shot rang through the madness followed by the feeling of a hammer to his chest. Another shot sounded from behind him, but no pain followed. He looked up to see Angie standing next to him, her feet spread out, knees slightly bent, aiming her pistol.

"Angie, get back," he croaked, because she wasn't wearing a vest.

Fortunately, she listened and ducked back behind the flower holder just as another two goons appeared, aiming their pistols at him. Still on his back, Tom whipped his own gun out and pointed it at them. They faltered, as if actually considering he'd shoot. Their guess was right. Another few steps and he was blowing them to smithereens.

"You can't kill us both at the same time, brat," one of them said, "so just throw that away and come quietly."

Tom smiled. "Yes, I can, if I shoot the grenade your companion has at his belt. That's what I'm aiming at, in case you morons haven't noticed."

The morons froze. Then Grenade Guy was brave enough to open his mouth.

"You wouldn't do it! You'd get killed, too."

Tom cocked the pistol, even if he didn't need to, just to prove his point. "I'm dead anyway. Might as well take you clowns with me."

The other goon opened his mouth, but didn't get to say a word. Angie whipped out from behind the flower holder and shot him in the thigh. Tom immediately lowered the barrel of his gun and shot Grenade Guy in the kneecap. The two men fell over moaning.

Tom rolled into a crouch and followed Angie as she sprinted towards the exit. The moment they cleared the automatic doors, an explosion shook the entire building. A wave of heat pushed them over in the pile of snow cleared from the parking lot.

Trembling wildly, Tom pulled himself out of the snow. "Angie!"

"I'm fine," she moaned, rolling out of the snow as well and on to the sidewalk. "We have to get out of here."

They did, but Tom still lingered. "Damn, I hope Sam wasn't in there anymore."

"What's going on? They've never used explosives before," Angie said her teeth clattering.

Tom took the backpack off and pulled out her winter jacket. She took it gratefully as they moved further away from the smoking building. The sound of sirens was already growing louder, and he knew they couldn't linger much more.

"Over here," Sam suddenly called from their right, and Tom's shoulders lost their tension.

Angie breathed relieved, too, as they hurried across the parking lot and towards Sam. He didn't even wait for them to reach him before he darted away, towards the busy street. Tom hurried to catch up, but his body ached all over, both from the shot and being tossed around, and Angie was wearing high heels.

"Slow down, will you?" he mumbled.

"I can't. We have to get out of here and now," Sam glanced over his shoulder and faltered. "You okay? You're limping. And bleeding."

"We're obviously not okay," Angie answered, her teeth still clattering because the jacket didn't cover her bare legs.

"Crap. I got away pretty easily. Lost them in the maze of stores and let myself out before all the explosions started."

Tom felt relieved and kind of jealous because Sam had managed to rat his way out of trouble better than him. But at least he'd gotten to make out with Angie inside the dressing room. So he tried to hold on to that image and drive the pain away on their way to the Underworld. Once there, they could get patched up and rest.

❄❄❄

I hope you had fun with this little scene because I has fun writing it. Tom is always fun 😊

Tom and Angie are always so inappropriate, but I don't think that surprises anyone at this point 😅

I want to give a very special shout out to Lynn (FairlyLocalTreehouse) for the awesome aesthetics at the top. They fit the story incredibly well (better than she knows). She also has a book called When Mary met Halley which is sad and funny and incredible at the same time. So maybe give it a glance.

Thanks to reading. I'd really appreciate your opinion. Also, since we're already pretty far along, how do you feel about the story so far? Enjoyable? Definitely your fave? 😅