I cough and choke, falling to my knees, unable to see a fucking thing.
“Kira, run.”I fight to holler, but someone kicks me square in the gut, and the little air I have left in my diaphragm evaporates.
“Get her,” I hear a voice say. A deep voice. An ominous voice.
“Deacon.” I battle to my knees, throwing punches into the air. I can’t see, I can barely breathe, but I can still fucking fight.
“Little Ky, all grown up.” He snaps my head back by my hair.
“Stay away from her.” I punch upward, but my attempts are futile. I miss every fucking time.
“She’s mine now,” he laughs sinisterly.
“I will fucking kill you if you hurt her,” my voice strains.
“That’s cute, kid. How ya gonna do that when you can’t even see me?” He digs his fingertip into my eye, and the sting intensifies.
“Ahhh!”I howl like the wounded fucking dog I am, still trying to gain my bearings, but my eyes burn so fucking bad I’m completely blind.
“Good ol’ concentrated capsaicin powder. Gets ’em every time.
“Ky!” I hear Kira shriek somewhere close to me, and I dive in the direction of her terrified sound.
“So long, kid.” He kicks me right in the face. “Tell your Pops I said hi.”
“Fuck off,” I growl, crawling down my concrete walkway, scraping my bare knees to shreds as I go.
“No!” Kira screams again, and my entire body breaks out in prickling goosebumps.
“Kira!” I bellow, sluggish from the toxic powder affecting my senses.
I hear car doors slam and tires screech, and I know she’s gone. I fucking failed her. Ambushed by my father’s oldest enemy.
* * *
“He has her.He fucking has her.” I lose my mind as Fender treats my eyes with some homemade cleaning solution.
“Sit fucking still, man, I need to flush all this shit out.” There are definitely perks to having a paramedic as one of your best friends. No hospital visits.
“I can’t sit still. I’m gonna kill him. I’m going to shove the barrel of a shotgun down his fucking throat and pull the trigger.”
“You aren’t gonna do shit if you can’t see. Hold him down.” What feels like a dozen sets of hands pin me to the chair as Fender performs Chinese water torture. Everyone is here. Hawk, Fender, Vet, Breaker, Bone, and Tempest. All my closest accessories to trouble and the people I trust most in the world. “At least he was stupid enough to tell you what he hit you with.” Fender places two soaked cotton balls on each eye. “He’s good. You can let him go. Hold those there.” He guides my hands to my face.
“The question is, what the fuck do we do now?” Hawk asks.
“We fucking find him,” I rumble.
“Well, no shit, Sherlock, but he could be anywhere. He’s got some deep connections.”
“So do we.Use them.”
“We don’t even know what kind of car they drove away in. I could at least track them on the traffic cams that way.”
“Deacon knew what he was doing. Knew exactly when to strike. None of the neighbors saw anything?” I’m T-minus two seconds away from blast off.
“Only your willy,” Bone grunts. “You gave your elderly neighbor quite a fright. You need a conceal and carry for that thing.”
“I’m glad you’ve got a crush on my dick, but I’m not in the mood for fucking jokes right now. A psychopath has my fuckin’ girl, and I can’t do shit about it at the moment,” I erupt like fucking Mount Vesuvius on her period.
