CHERUB: Mad Dogs Read Online Free PDF

kept closing and Michael looked for a gap in the traffic that would enable him to buy a few seconds by darting across the road.
    A voice sounded in his ear as he sprinted out in front of a delivery van. ‘Green Pepper.’
    ‘Clive, it’s Michael Conroy here, you’ve got to—’
    The blast of a horn drowned out his words.
    ‘Who?’ the gruff West Indian asked as Michael began running along the pavement towards the café.
    ‘I’m making a delivery for Dee, but the Runts are all over me. I’m across the street, I need backup.’
    Michael didn’t hear the response, because a red traffic light had allowed three of the five cyclists to cut across the road and resume the chase. But Michael was now less than two hundred metres from the shabby frontage of the Green Pepper.
    ‘Move,’ Michael screamed, as a woman scooped a toddler into her arms to avoid getting mown down by Michael and the line of bikes on his tail.
    But avoiding the toddler steered Michael into the path of a concrete bollard. His knee smacked it and his phone went flying as he twisted and fell against a parked car. As he saved himself from hitting the ground by grabbing hold of a door mirror, one of the cyclists skimmed past punching him in the back.
    By the time Michael was on his feet, he was gasping for breath and penned between a car and a hedge, with the Runt who’d thrown the punch ahead of him and two more jumping off their bikes behind. He stepped away from the car and made a wild swing with the axe.
    ‘Come on then, slags,’ Michael yelled, as the axe swished through the air. ‘I’m not scared of you.’
    But he was scared. It was a huge relief to see four masked men burst through the windowless doors of the Green Pepper. There was a crack as one of them fired a shotgun blast into the air. Two of his compadres held machetes, while the other wielded a handgun and a full-sized samurai sword.
    Major Dee’s crew were serious gangsters. Many of them had grown up in Jamaica’s most violent neighbourhoods; they’d killed rivals and served hard prison time. The Runts were just kids, deep in Major Dee’s territory and suddenly out of their league.
    A second blast of shotgun pellets hit one of the cyclists who hadn’t crossed the road. The two guys at Michael’s back grabbed their bikes to flee, but the one in front eyeballed him defiantly as he lifted up his sweatshirt, revealing the stock of an automatic pistol.
    Three more tooled-up members of Major Dee’s crew were emerging from the Green Pepper, making a total of seven. The guy with the shotgun was waiting for a gap in the traffic to come to Michael’s aid, but Michael realised there would be a nasty – possibly deadly – stand-off if he gave the Runt time to pull his gun.
    Michael lunged forward, swinging the axe. He brought it down hard into his opponent’s shoulder. The kid tried aiming the gun as he collapsed backwards into the hedge, but his arm was crippled and Michael kneed him in the stomach before ripping the gun out of his hand.
    Blood was pouring as Michael pocketed the handgun and levered the axe out of the Runt’s shoulder. Another shotgun blast made Michael jump, but it had been aimed hopelessly at the two retreating cyclists.
    ‘Michael, you OK?’ the gunman said.
    Michael was completely pumped. He hadn’t recognised the gunman under his mask, but he knew Major Dee’s voice.
    ‘I thought you were home,’ Michael gasped.
    Major Dee shook his head. ‘I listened to what your girlfriend said. She made me realise that this set-up smelled to high heaven.’
    ‘We’d better get out of here,’ Michael said.
    But Major Dee looked at the bloody Runt slumped against the hedge. He pointed the shotgun at the Runt’s head and pulled up his balaclava.
    ‘Good news is, I’m gonna let you live,’ Dee smiled. ‘But tell all your friends that we’re on your case.’
    After a laugh, Dee lowered his aim and blasted the Runt’s kneecap from point-blank range. Blood spattered