––––––––
We exited the rear of the building and instantly spotted Smith’s group of dildos. They had Christie Tolbert standing between them, a rifle jammed against the side of her face.
I skidded to a stop, my gun aimed at the Man in Black.
The son of a bitch smirked at me.
Bouncing his head like a basketball would feel so good.
“Mr. Benson, I presume,” the Man in Black said. “Nice to meet up with you again. The masks are an interesting touch.”
I didn’t respond.
Tate swept to the left, taking partial cover behind a red car. Briggs and Huxx sidestepped toward the right side of the parking lot.
“Easy now.” The Man in Black watched me. “We wouldn’t want Ms. Tolbert’s brains splattered all over the place, would we?”
“If you let her go and give yourself up, I won’t kill you.” I took a step forward, keeping my aim center mass on the boss man. “I’ll just rough you up a little. Maybe a lot.”
Anger rose inside me.
That’s it, Sammy whispered. Let it out.
“That’s an awfully nice gesture.” He stepped behind the flunky holding Christie. “I think we’ll pass. Follow us and she’s dead.”
The third dingleberry whimpered.
My eyes cut to him quickly, and then back.
The guy was missing his fucking hand. How long had we been running down those stairs? When I’d seen them in the hallway, all three of them were in one piece. Less than a minute later, they were dropping body parts like lepers.
Bree Manning was a super badass.
“Last chance, asshole.” My aim turned to the man holding Christie.
The door behind me flew open, slamming off the rear wall of the apartment building. I spun on my heels, bringing my weapon around.
A sea of people flooded out of the door.
The rioters had dealt with enough of our nonsense. They pressed forward, the ones in front hesitant to engage me because I had a gun pointed at them. The people behind them either didn’t see my rifle or didn’t care because they continued pushing forward.
I walked backward, hoping the three dickwads holding Christie wouldn’t shoot me in the back.
“Move!” Tate yelled.
The crowd surged.
I twisted around and ran. My teammates were already sprinting across the parking lot.
Smith’s men were gone. An exit near the spot they’d been standing ran to a side street. I made a split-second decision to try and cut them off.
I turned hard left and ran with everything I had toward a small gap between the apartment building and an unmarked business of some kind. It wasn’t wide enough for a car to fit through, but my ridiculously broad and muscular shoulders would just barely squeeze through.
Tate, Huxx, and Briggs kept going straight.
“Benson!” Tate glanced over his shoulder at me. “To hell with them! We have to abort!”
That was easy for him to say. He’d been on Smith’s heels for a few days. It wasn’t personal for him like it was for me. Tate and the rest of them wanted to catch a bad guy.
I wanted to catch Sammy’s murderer—the killer of Arthur’s Creek. It wasn’t just personal for me—it was a war. Asher’s War.
Sounded pretty badass to think of it that way. Just like me.
Beyond my personal vendetta, the Man in Black had a hostage and human life didn’t mean diddly squat to him. He’d execute her in a millisecond if it would help him in any way.
I had to get my hands on him.
The crowd hollered behind me. They were ballsy—I had to give them that. Chasing armed men dressed all in black had to be frightening.
I plunged into the tiny alley and vaulted over a cardboard box with a smiley face on the side. The space smelled of piss and mold. Just like home.
At the other end of the alley, more of the protestors walked by, chanting something I couldn’t quite make out. They didn’t seem quite as pissed off as the people chasing me, so I hoped I could push my way through.
Or at least scare them with my big gun.
By the time I reached the end of the alley, I had Tate and Nelson hollering into my ear.
I grabbed the wire of the earbud and yanked it out. Then I unclipped my rifle, knowing I would need to move it freely to get through the crowd.
As I exited the alley, I cut right, bumping into a teenage kid holding a sign that said something about the patriarchy, whatever in the hell that was. He stumbled backward into an Asian woman in her fifties.
It was a diverse group.
‘merica.
I slowed to a jog as I pushed through the horde and looked over the tops of their heads, scanning the street for Smith’s goons. Nothing stood out.
My anger grew. They couldn’t get away. Not again.
“He’s got a gun!” someone to my left screamed.
I finally spotted the gray and black suits a block down, disappearing behind the corner of a building. Lowering my shoulder, I shoved against the crowd even harder.
Some of them jumped out of the way when they saw the rifle, but others reached out and tried to tear it away from me. As more of them became aware of my presence, the fight to get through grew harder. If I didn’t get clear soon, they’d pull me to the ground and stomp me to death.
The people chasing me burst from the alley and screamed about me murdering people.
Shit went south in a hurry.
I raised the gun and jammed the butt of it into the face of large man who lunged at me. He fell backward, big paws covering his smashed nose. As he fell down, he took three or four people with him.
Using the opening, I pushed and shoved my way to the other side of the street. The sidewalk, ironically, had less foot traffic and I was able to accelerate.
Tate’s tiny, electronic voice chirped against my chest.
The pissed-off crowd closed in on me again.
Pistoning my legs as fast as they would go, I reached the spot where Smith’s men had disappeared and turned the corner to follow them. They were thirty yards ahead of me on an even smaller street. The road was clear of rioters, giving them free passage.
Christie stumbled along behind one of the gray suits, leaning forward as he yanked on her hair. The Man in Black took the lead, running with a smooth stride.
The guy sans one hand staggered like a drunk as he tried to keep up. Blood loss had relegated his movements to that of a toddler.
I pointed my rifle at them as I ran, but my gait had my aim swaying too much. Only in the movies could you accurately shoot someone while at a dead run.
Instead of firing, I lowered the weapon and pushed my legs to their absolute limit. All the workouts I’d slaved over lately were in preparation for that moment. My body wouldn’t fail me now.
I caught the wounded man quickly. “Hey, stumpy.”
He slowed and turned around.
My fist connected with his temple. I didn’t even have to break stride.
His body flew forward from the momentum of his strides and the power of my mega punch. He stumbled forward two steps and then tumbled face-first onto the pavement. Fresh blood poured out of his mangled hand.
The man dragging Christie heard the commotion and glanced back at me. I was still ten yards away when he stopped and spun around, bringing his gun up.
Christie didn’t get the memo. She kept running forward and rammed into the guy’s chest. He staggered back a step and the two of them tangled together. The gun faltered for a moment as he shoved against her, trying to extricate his arms from her body.
The distraction gave me enough time to close the distance. There still wasn’t a clear shot because of Christie’s struggle against the man, so I kept running. My long strides got me there before they could separate, and I aimed the stock of my rifle at the man’s face.
He was fast.
Before the stock could crush his nose, he slipped to the left and my blow zipped past his ear. He caught me in the ribs with the barrel of his gun, sending a stinger though my torso.
I drove my elbow into his temple.
The weapon fell from his hand as he stumbled to his left. Christie’s hair finally detangled from his fingers, and she collapsed to the side of the street.
“Run!” I roared.
Christie jumped up and sprinted back the way we’d come without a word.
Behind me, I could hear the crowd swarming down the road, moving closer to us. At that moment, I didn’t care if they caught me or not as long as I could take those two clowns down with me.
I brought my rifle around to give him a lead dessert, but he recovered quickly and grabbed the gun with both hands. He tried to wrest it from my grip, but the dude had no idea who he was tangling with.
All of my weightlifting had me Arnold Schwarzenegger strong.
Rather than fight for control of the gun, I charged forward, pushing him in front of me.
His back slammed against the building behind him.
Our eyes locked as I jammed the rifle under his chin, cutting off his air.
My anger reached new heights. I saw Sammy in his eyes, her life slipping away as I held her.
I wrenched the rifle even harder into his throat.
Gags escaped him.
I let go of the stock with my right hand and reached for the pistol strapped to my leg. It slid free of the holster. Before he could reach out, I had the barrel shoved against his forehead, the safety clicked off.
My finger tensed against the trigger.
A flash of white burst through my vision.
Pain blossomed in the back of my head.
I couldn’t hear any sound. Everything was white.
The bright veil slowly dissipated as I blinked rapidly.
Turning my head sent a fresh wave of agony through my neck.
I was on the ground, staring up at the Man in Black.
He frowned down at me.
Then he kicked me in the face.