Page 202 of Lethal King

Ahead, I spot my targets. They’re squinting against the light. If they had any sense, they’d already be running away. But the idiots don’t budge. Instead, they just stand there, guns raised and blindly firing forward—lambs for the slaughter.

“Light them up!” I order.

Somehow, through the chaos, Deacon is able to hear me. In the blink of an eye, the fuckers ahead start to fall, shredded by Deacon’s high-caliber bullets.

Thankfully, he leaves a few standing for me.

“You fuckers!” I roar, blasting into the line without slowing down.

Half a dozen bodies crash into my hood and roll over my windshield. I hear the fresh corpses tumble over the roof of my car before falling behind the bumper.

That’s when I take my foot off the gas pedal. But I’m not done yet. Throwing my car in reverse, I come to a screeching stop.

“I’m not done with you assholes yet,” I grunt.

Their bones crunch under my heavy wheels as I back up. I don’t stop until I see their flattened bodies in my headlights. Then, I shove an elbow into my door handle and jump out into the action.

Lifting my gun, I go to shoot the first asshole I see. But before I can pull the trigger, his head explodes.

“Hey!” I shout, pressing down on my earpiece.

“Oh, sorry, did you want to kill him?” Deacon apologizes. “Oh shit, watch out.”

The second I open my mouth to respond, I feel a bullet whizz past my shoulder. A split second later, someone falls at my feet.

“Careful!” I curse. “That almost hit me.”

“Oh, boss, I would never dare. Trust—”

This time, I beat him to the draw. A bullet rips from my barrel, slicing through some poor fucker’s throat just as he lunges at me through the smoke.

“Make sure we leave a survivor,” I remind Deacon, stepping over the fresh corpse.

The next asshole who comes at me gets a bullet through the gut.

“I’ve already taken care of that,” Deacon says. “The first asshole I shot got a bullet right through both of his shoulders, then two more through his shins. He’s not going anywhere, but he’ll able to do plenty of talking—that is, if we can clear out everyone else before he loses too much blood.”

“I’m on it.”

“Me too.”

Three quick shots rain down from above. Three bodies hit the floor.

Through the smoky aftermath, I spot someone trying to make a run for it.

He doesn’t get far.

“Coward,” Deacon curses, putting a bullet in his back.

“Not everyone can be as brave as you,” I play, watching as the fucker hits the ground, squirms for a moment, then goes still.

Turning back around, I search for any stragglers. There are none. We made quick work of these losers.

“I’m not brave,” Deacon replies. “I’m just pissed off.”

“Welcome to the club,” I grunt. “Now, get down here. We have an interrogation to start.”

“Yes, sir.”