Page 104 of Nixon’s Promise

“No,” he grunted. “I want to go.”

“I know you do. I know you want to help, but, Zack, I need you to help by taking care of Amanda. That’s the best way. I need to be out there hunting; I cannot do that if I’m worried about you and Mandy. McKenna needs all of my concentration. I need you here.”

“Fine,” he clipped and started to pull away.

Nixon held tight, not allowing the teenager to move.

“Zack, part of being a man is knowing your strengths and limitations. Finding ways to capitalize on those assets. It is also learning that sometimes you need to sacrifice what you want to do, so you can do what you need to do for those you love. Amanda needs you more than you want to go look for McKenna.”

“I said, fine. You promised to bring her home. So, go and do it.”

Nixon understood the boy’s anger, used it, and bottled it up. Amanda’s tears, too. Nixon allowed their anguish to seep into his bones and mix with his own. The result was a white-hot rage he’d never felt before. Not on the battlefield. Not ever.

Nixon Swagger was on the warpath, and when he found his woman, there’d be hell to pay. He’d unleash the wrath of God on the motherfucker who’d dared to harm McKenna.

With cold detachment, Nixon went into work mode. “Holden, you stay here with Mandy and Zack. Weston, head back to McKenna’s and check the house. Maybe we missed something. Jameson, I need you to call my buddy on the force, find out everything he knows about Sheriff Dillinger. Everything. Chasin, you’re with me.”

“The sheriff?” Mandy whispered. “I heard Micky on the phone with Becky telling her the sheriff pulled her over when you were out of town. He threatened her. Micky was worried because she said she mouthed off to him. He was really mad. Told her she was screwed.”

Good Christ. Why hadn’t McKenna told him?

Nixon didn’t have time to ponder for long. Six gun shots rang out in rapid succession. Six discharges that were close.

Five men and two teenagers stood stock-still. Nixon’s gaze swung toward the woods and a bitter dread swept over him.

Another two shots volleyed and Nixon took off in a dead sprint.

Nixon Swagger did this, and at the same time doing something he hadn’t done in a long time—he prayed.

41

My ribs were on fire. Excruciating pain like I’d never felt emanated over my entire body. The only thing stronger than the agony was my will to live.

Adrenaline is a funny thing. When you’re in the last moments of your life and the threat of death is imminent and you realize you have nothing left to lose, the fight comes back—twenty-fold. A strength I didn’t know I had leaked into my soul, and when the time was right, when Dickhead Dillinger had underestimated me and bent down to taunt me some more about how Nixon was going to rot in jail and Zack and Mandy would go into foster care and it would be Nixon’s fault, I sprang into action.

My fist made contact with his groin and he toppled to the dirty floor next to me. I kicked, punched, clawed, slapped. I mustered all of the energy I could. If I was going to die anyway—and Dick had made it clear I was—I was going to die fighting. I wasn’t going to be some dumb fuck who wallowed in fear and allowed my life to be taken.

What I hadn’t anticipated was Dick pulling out a gun. I hadn’t known he had one. All of his threats of death were by strangulation. He’d said he was going to choke me. I should’ve known an officer would have a weapon.

I wish I would’ve thought about it sooner.

Now we were rolling around. My hand wrapped around his, struggling to keep the gun pointed in any direction but on me. I’d managed to get my finger over his on the trigger and we’d wildly fired into the wall and the ceiling.

I didn’t know how many bullets were left nor had I been counting how many had been fired.

“You stupid bitch.” Spittle hit my face as Dick rolled his large frame over mine.

This was not going to end well for me. He was too big, and with my vision impaired and God knows how many broken ribs, I’d never get him off of me. I forced my knee up and connected with a body part—unfortunately not the one I’d wanted. With one leg now free, I used my heel to repeatedly wallop the back of his thigh.

“Stupid, stupid, bitch.”

The last of my vigor waned. My arm shook with exertion as I tried but was woefully failing to keep the gun from lowering to my head.

Dick threw his arm wide and I lost my grip. On the back swing he pistol-whipped me across the face, jerking my head to the side. Blood once again pooled in my mouth and I did my best to spit it out as I gasped for air.

This was it—my last stand.

Strangely, I wasn’t scared. I knew with all my heart Nixon would take care of Zack and Amanda. He’d get them through. Nixon Swagger was the kind of man who didn’t give up—he’d never let them fail. He’d see to them, just as he’d seen to all of us these last few months.