Bill is a big man, thick with farm muscle, and he fights back instantly. He bucks wildly beneath me, his elbows swinging backward, catching me in the ribs. He reaches up, his thick fingers clawing frantically at my forearm, trying to break the chokehold.
Buster barks frantically, circling us, but the dog doesn’t bite.
I use my bad arm to complete the choke, bearing down and counting to eight. He’s going to go out. I know he will.
You learn things in prison.
And right at the eighth, Bill goes slack.
I release him immediately, the scent of his body odor and the piss he just filled his pants with making me nauseous. “Okay,” I breathe out, my heart still thumping steadily in my chest. “There’s that.”
“Oh my god,” Rue stands in the doorway. “Did you just kill him?”
I raise a brow, surprised by my own smile. “No, he’s just taking a nap. It won’t last. He’ll wake up.”
Rue nods and looks at the dog, who’s peering up at her, no longer barking. “Your owner is a bad man.” Her voice takes a dip. She reaches her hand out for him to sniff, and he does, his tail wagging.
The dog then promptly heads for the back door, whining.
“Let him out,” I instruct Rue, the scent of urine wafting through the hallway. “I need to go through his pockets.”
Rue nods and follows orders. I hold my breath and reach into his back pocket, leaving his phone, but fishing out his wallet. I flip it open as a door slams in the background, frown at his driver’s license, and then pull apart the big pocket.
Bingo.I take the wad of cash, but as I pull it out, a piece of paper falls from the compartment, fluttering to the floor.
Rue reappears and beats me to it, plucking the paper up off the floor. She shudders, dropping it like it’s possessed. “Don’t… I can’t… Gross.” Her face pales as she steps back, covering her nose.
“What?” I scoop it up, see the image printed on paper, and am instantly aware of what Bill did while he went camping.
And my boot collides with his fucking face, bloodying his nose.
“Did you finish checking his pockets?” Rue asks, completely unfazed by my reaction. “Is that all there is?”
I turn to her. “I thought you were against stealing?”
“Not from a pedophile,” she huffs. “Fuck him.”
“Yeah, fuck him,” I repeat, letting out a laugh that feels foreign.
She gestures to his hip. “He carries.”
I adjust to peer down at him from the angle she’s looking, and sure enough. There’s a fucking holster on his hip. “Huh. Glad he didn’t get a chance to use that on me. Very Texas of him, huh?” I reach down and detach it from his belt, careful not to get human piss on my fingers.
I hand it across to her. “Here. I’m going to grab our shit.”
She nods and then undoes the holster, staring at the revolver. “Odd choice for self-protection. My dad always said revolvers weren’t worth it.”
“Odd observation,” I say, stepping over Bill.
However, as I do, his hand juts out to catch my ankle. I trip forward, catching myself on the wall.
Fucker came back quick.
I extend my knee in a quick motion, my heel connecting with his chest. He grunts, but then goes with a second hand, grabbing my calf. “Fuck!”
But a piercing blast drowns out my voice. And another. And another.
Holy fucking shit. What did she just do?
