I move faster.
The third man sees me too late.
My fist caves his nose before he gets his gun clear. I slam him into the siding and put him down with the butt of his own weapon.
The fourth one reaches for the van.
I shoot him in the leg first.
He goes down screaming.
Too loud now.
Fine.
The calm stays.
That is the thing about me.
Once violence starts, I know exactly who I am.
The bearded bastard at the cabin door yanks his gun and gets half a step into the yard before I put one round through his shoulder and another into his throat.
He drops.
Silence drops hard after gunfire.
Then the ringing.
Then my own breath.
The van idles.
The cabin light hums.
From inside, something crashes.
A small sound follows.
Her.
I’m at the door in two strides.
The room is dressed up nice.
Soft light. A chair. Bottled water on the table. Everything clean enough to pass for respectable.
Then I see the zip ties, and the whole place turns rotten.
She is backed into the corner, one hand braced against the wall like the floor will not hold still. Chestnut hair tangled around her face. Green eyes huge and glassy.
For half a second she just stares at me.
Then she flinches.
Of course she does.
I’ve got blood on my hands. A gun in one fist. Death still riding my shoulders.
