Unwanted
Page 14
“Leave right now,” I warned. “Or you won’t like what happens next.”
He quit laughing and eyed me again. “You know what? I would maybe be a little bit intimidated by you, except for one small thing.”
“What’s that?”
The giant slowly turned around in a circle and made a big show of looking up and down the empty street before throwing his hands out wide. “The fact that Blanco’s not here to back up your petty threats.”
“I—”
I started to say that I didn’t need Gin to fight my battles, but Bart had already turned back toward his goons.
He waved his hand in my direction. “Kill him. Then come on up to the house, and we’ll have some fun with the grieving widow.”
Bart laughed again and started striding up the lawn toward the porch.
Isabelle must have heard us talking, because she was standing in front of one of the picture windows. The giant grinned again, raised his hand, and blew her a loud, smacking kiss. Isabelle’s eyes widened, and she darted away from the window, probably to lock the front door, although that wouldn’t slow Bart down for more than a few seconds. I needed to stop the giant before he smashed his way into the house and hurt her.
I headed after him, but the two goons stepped in front of me, blocking my path. The men grinned and slapped their baseball bats in their hands, trying to intimidate me. They thought those bats and their inherent giant strength made them tougher than me.
Maybe. But all that certainly didn’t make them smarter.
Even as the first giant raised his weapon and stepped toward me, I pulled my gun out of my coat pocket and shot him in the knee.
Pfft!
The silenced gun barely made a whisper, but the same couldn’t be said for the giant, who yelped in pain, dropped his bat, and tumbled to the asphalt. It would have been easier to shoot him again, but more rage surged through me, and I decided to let it out. So I darted forward, dug my fingers into his greased hair, and slammed his head up against the side of the SUV repeatedly, putting as much force behind each blow as I could.
Thwack-thwack-thwack.
Three good, solid whacks later, I let go. The giant’s moans abruptly cut off, and he slumped to the street, blood gushing out of the ugly dents I’d just put in his skull. They matched the ones in the SUV.
He wouldn’t be getting up from those wounds—ever—so I whirled around to the second guy, who was already cursing, dropping his bat, and going for the gun tucked into his waistband. He yanked the weapon free and raised it up at me—
Pfft!
But I was faster, and I shot him in the chest before he could fire. He dropped to the ground without a sound, already dead from the bullet I’d put through his heart.
I whirled around and stepped forward, ready to sprint up the lawn and kill Bart before he broke into the house—
Crack!
Too late, I spotted the giant out of the corner of my eye, and he slammed his fist into the side of my face.
Pain exploded in my jaw and radiated up into my temples, before wrapping around my entire skull, squeezing tighter than a vise. White stars exploded in front of my eyes like fireworks, and I staggered back, feeling like I’d just been hit upside the head by a sledgehammer. Bart had realized that I’d dealt with his men, and he’d come back down the lawn to kill me himself. Lucky me.
“You think you can take me out?” the giant snarled. “No fucking way.”
Even though I was still drunkenly staggering, I blinked the white stars away as best as I could and raised my gun. Bart growled, stepped up, and slapped the weapon out of my hand before I could pull the trigger. I tried to track the gun’s progress as it sailed across the lawn, but it was dark, and the weapon vanished into the grass.
Bart, though, was easy to see, since the bastard was right in front of me. And very, very large.
The giant let out another growl, put his head down, and charged at me like a raging bull. But I was no matador, and I wasn’t able to slide to the side in time. My head was still spinning so badly that I couldn’t even lurch out of the way. Bart easily grabbed me around the waist, hoisted me up into the air, and body-slammed me back down onto the ground like an NFL linebacker. I was the poor, unfortunate football he was spiking. Touchdown, Bart.
My head snapped back against the ground, causing more pain to shoot through my skull and another cascade of white stars to explode in front of my eyes. Before I could even think about scrambling away, Bart positioned himself on top of me, grinned, and drew back his fists.
Thud-thud-thud.
Bart the Butcher slammed his fists into my chest over and over again. His giant strength was bad enough, but those damn gold rings on his fingers made the blows more painful. It was like being beaten with brass knuckles, just as I’d thought, but worse, since all those mounds of diamonds on his rings dug into my ribs with their sharp, shiny edges, adding to my misery.
Each one of the giant’s punches sent a jolt of pain through my entire chest, telling me that he’d already cracked at least a couple of my ribs. It wouldn’t be long before he shattered the bones outright. Once that happened, all it would take would be a broken bone stabbing into one of my lungs, and I’d wheeze to death right here on the lawn, choking on my own blood.
I was in serious danger of never getting up from this fight, but instead of being scared, more red-hot rage roared through me.
He wanted to play dirty? Well, so could I.
I snapped up my thumbs, trying to gouge the bastard’s eyes out, but Bart just chuckled, slapped my hands away, and raised his rings and his fists for another round—
Crack!
A baseball bat slammed into Bart’s shoulder before he could start whaling on me again, and suddenly, Isabelle was there, standing over the giant and drawing the bat back for a second swing.
“Leave him alone!” she yelled.
He quit laughing and eyed me again. “You know what? I would maybe be a little bit intimidated by you, except for one small thing.”
“What’s that?”
The giant slowly turned around in a circle and made a big show of looking up and down the empty street before throwing his hands out wide. “The fact that Blanco’s not here to back up your petty threats.”
“I—”
I started to say that I didn’t need Gin to fight my battles, but Bart had already turned back toward his goons.
He waved his hand in my direction. “Kill him. Then come on up to the house, and we’ll have some fun with the grieving widow.”
Bart laughed again and started striding up the lawn toward the porch.
Isabelle must have heard us talking, because she was standing in front of one of the picture windows. The giant grinned again, raised his hand, and blew her a loud, smacking kiss. Isabelle’s eyes widened, and she darted away from the window, probably to lock the front door, although that wouldn’t slow Bart down for more than a few seconds. I needed to stop the giant before he smashed his way into the house and hurt her.
I headed after him, but the two goons stepped in front of me, blocking my path. The men grinned and slapped their baseball bats in their hands, trying to intimidate me. They thought those bats and their inherent giant strength made them tougher than me.
Maybe. But all that certainly didn’t make them smarter.
Even as the first giant raised his weapon and stepped toward me, I pulled my gun out of my coat pocket and shot him in the knee.
Pfft!
The silenced gun barely made a whisper, but the same couldn’t be said for the giant, who yelped in pain, dropped his bat, and tumbled to the asphalt. It would have been easier to shoot him again, but more rage surged through me, and I decided to let it out. So I darted forward, dug my fingers into his greased hair, and slammed his head up against the side of the SUV repeatedly, putting as much force behind each blow as I could.
Thwack-thwack-thwack.
Three good, solid whacks later, I let go. The giant’s moans abruptly cut off, and he slumped to the street, blood gushing out of the ugly dents I’d just put in his skull. They matched the ones in the SUV.
He wouldn’t be getting up from those wounds—ever—so I whirled around to the second guy, who was already cursing, dropping his bat, and going for the gun tucked into his waistband. He yanked the weapon free and raised it up at me—
Pfft!
But I was faster, and I shot him in the chest before he could fire. He dropped to the ground without a sound, already dead from the bullet I’d put through his heart.
I whirled around and stepped forward, ready to sprint up the lawn and kill Bart before he broke into the house—
Crack!
Too late, I spotted the giant out of the corner of my eye, and he slammed his fist into the side of my face.
Pain exploded in my jaw and radiated up into my temples, before wrapping around my entire skull, squeezing tighter than a vise. White stars exploded in front of my eyes like fireworks, and I staggered back, feeling like I’d just been hit upside the head by a sledgehammer. Bart had realized that I’d dealt with his men, and he’d come back down the lawn to kill me himself. Lucky me.
“You think you can take me out?” the giant snarled. “No fucking way.”
Even though I was still drunkenly staggering, I blinked the white stars away as best as I could and raised my gun. Bart growled, stepped up, and slapped the weapon out of my hand before I could pull the trigger. I tried to track the gun’s progress as it sailed across the lawn, but it was dark, and the weapon vanished into the grass.
Bart, though, was easy to see, since the bastard was right in front of me. And very, very large.
The giant let out another growl, put his head down, and charged at me like a raging bull. But I was no matador, and I wasn’t able to slide to the side in time. My head was still spinning so badly that I couldn’t even lurch out of the way. Bart easily grabbed me around the waist, hoisted me up into the air, and body-slammed me back down onto the ground like an NFL linebacker. I was the poor, unfortunate football he was spiking. Touchdown, Bart.
My head snapped back against the ground, causing more pain to shoot through my skull and another cascade of white stars to explode in front of my eyes. Before I could even think about scrambling away, Bart positioned himself on top of me, grinned, and drew back his fists.
Thud-thud-thud.
Bart the Butcher slammed his fists into my chest over and over again. His giant strength was bad enough, but those damn gold rings on his fingers made the blows more painful. It was like being beaten with brass knuckles, just as I’d thought, but worse, since all those mounds of diamonds on his rings dug into my ribs with their sharp, shiny edges, adding to my misery.
Each one of the giant’s punches sent a jolt of pain through my entire chest, telling me that he’d already cracked at least a couple of my ribs. It wouldn’t be long before he shattered the bones outright. Once that happened, all it would take would be a broken bone stabbing into one of my lungs, and I’d wheeze to death right here on the lawn, choking on my own blood.
I was in serious danger of never getting up from this fight, but instead of being scared, more red-hot rage roared through me.
He wanted to play dirty? Well, so could I.
I snapped up my thumbs, trying to gouge the bastard’s eyes out, but Bart just chuckled, slapped my hands away, and raised his rings and his fists for another round—
Crack!
A baseball bat slammed into Bart’s shoulder before he could start whaling on me again, and suddenly, Isabelle was there, standing over the giant and drawing the bat back for a second swing.
“Leave him alone!” she yelled.
