The other two men are flanking him, doing what they can to intimidate the older woman who offers her home to those in need.Fucking scum.
On light feet, I approach the one on the left and stab the pen into his neck before spinning toward the other and jumping on his back, jabbing him twice for good measure. At this point, the third man, the one with the gun, twists to face me with anger scrunching up his already horrific features.
Maribel screams and grabs her phone, no doubt dialing for the cops as the man points his gun in my direction.
“You’ll fucking pay, cunt.”
“Blah blah blah, come up with a more interesting insult, you bulbous-nosed prick.” Ducking, I lunge forward and stick the pen into his gut once, twice, and before I get to sing about the third lady in my head, a heavy blow to my back forces me down “That fucking hurt!” I pull his feet from beneath him, barely managing to roll away before he lands with athud, the gun skittering across the carpet.
I’m a little winded, but I can push through, so I leap up as fast as I can and drop my knee down onto his face, the crunch of his now-broken nose sending a satisfying thrill through me. He stops struggling, stops trying to reach for his gun, and he’s either passed out or dead.
My breaths are coming in heavy and fast as I try to calm my racing pulse, and I look around at the three now-downed—probably dead—men. There’s a possibility I took this too far, but one of them had a gun and there was no way I was about to allow some complete and utter twats to ruin my new life by hurting Maribel.
I guess…whoops?
Chapter Sixteen
Grinder
It’s been way too fucking long since I’ve been on my bike. Seriously, like three days? It’s unacceptable. I’d go tonight but I’m fucking beat.
With Avenged Sevenfold playing on the local rock station, the grizzly sound from the old truck radio makes M. Shadow sound like he’s one cigarette away from losing his voice.
Tapping on the steering wheel to the beat ofNightmare, I groan at the vibrating phone next to my thigh. When I look down, I frown, because I just fucking left Maribel’s place.
My first thought is that Parker already burned down the place because…not enough purple? Because the water for her tea was heated in the microwave? I mean, Sledge would nuke this whole fucking town if he saw anyone do that so I’m guessing since his sister has the same crazy-as-fuck DNA…it’s a real possibility.
“‘Sup, Maribel? Do I need to—”
“You need to come back. Oh my God, he has a gun!” The smug smirk on my face vanishes in an instant and my foot on the gas stomps on the brake as I give a hard turn of the steering wheel.
The only reason I don’t total the truck—for the second time this week—is because it’s late, and as I make a screeching U-turn, the road is empty. As soon as I regain control of the old beat up Ford, I push the gas pedal and grab my phone. Driving, even at this speed and recklessness, doesn’t fucking matter. My only focus is getting to Mirabel’s as quickly as possible. Not knowing what the fuck to expect once I get there, I call for back up.
“Where the fuck are y—” Boner doesn’t have time to scold me about why it’s taking me so long to get back to the apartment we share.
“Get a group of guys to Maribel’s. Shit’s going down.” That’s all I need to say and I know by the time the phone’s lying on the seat and forgotten, they’ll be running to their bikes with their favorite weapons in hand.
It takes me way too fucking long to get to Mirabel’s street, like time somehow warped and it’s pushing against me. With every second that passes, my brain is conjuring up images of Parker lying in a pool of blood. Parker being shot. Parker getting stabbed. Or worse, being assaulted. I won’t fucking stand for it. We’ve had too many of our women at the compound treated like shit by worthless assholes and I won’t allow for this to happen to Parker. Fuck. That.
I don’t bother with niceties as I arrive at the safe house, instead driving the truck up the driveway and parking on the grass. I slide the baseball bat out from behind my seat and pull out the gun we always keep in the glove compartment.
A shrill scream has me running even faster inside and what I see when I rush through the door is…
What the fuck am I looking at?
“Oh, hey, Grinder.”
I blink and my gaze does a slow, stunned sweep of the carnage in front of me. Three bodies lying on the blood-coatedfloor, bleeding out from various stab wounds. A quick glance to the couch reveals a pale faced woman crouched between the armchair and the couch, her arms wrapped around her legs. I don’t think she could make herself any smaller if she tried.
Broken shit is all over the place, pieces of glass from what looks like a retro vase litters the floor and the entire scene gives off tornado alley vibes. Maribel is still holding her phone in hand, watching me watching her, and as if scripted in a Tarantino movie, we both look away but toward the same person.
By the time my eyes collide with her crazed and dilated green ones, I’m seriously entertaining the idea of being in love. Swinging my bat so it’s resting on my shoulder, I cock my head and grin from ear to fucking ear with pride swelling deep in my heart.
“Causin’ trouble already, Stabby?”
She shrugs and looks around at the horror movie set I just stepped into.
“They started it.”