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When Zach held up his fist, Jig readied his weapon. Rocket and Zach would emerge first with Jig and LJ as back up. Zach lowered his fist, and he and Rocket ran toward the barn, rifles secured against their shoulders.
“Hands up! Oh the ground! Now!” Zach screamed, charging forward.
Standing around, shooting the shit and eating pizza, the men were taken completely off guard. “Oh, fuck!” The teen was the first to lift his hands to ear level, letting the half-full box of pizza tumble to the ground.
Two of the others abandoned their meal and dropped to their knees as well, hands above their heads. The remaining two were cockier sonsabitches. One folded his arms across his chest two seconds before Rocket surged forward, ramming the butt of his rifle dead center on the guys forehead.
He screamed like a little girl and crumbled to his knees. “Shoulda fucking listened the first time,” Rocket growled out as he circled the bastard, planted his boot between his shoulder blades and shoved him face-first into the dirt.”
Clearly missing something between his ears, the remaining guard smirked then took a large bite of his pizza. “Fucking bikers,” he said with his mouth full.
He was a big fucker, but then Jig was bigger. His scowl was mean, but then Jig’s was meaner.
“Gotta keep my strength up,” he said, still chewing. Then he swallowed, took another bite, and winked. “Need energy to give these girls what they’re begging for.”
It was the last straw. Already hopped up from his fight with Izzy and the fucked-up thoughts in his head, Jig tossed his gun to the ground and lunged forward, catching the pig with a right hook to the side of his head.
A half-chewed gob of pizza flew out of his mouth as his head whipped to the side under the force of Jig’s punch. He never had a chance to defend himself. Jig hit him again and the guy crashed to the ground. Following him down, Jig connected his fist with the piece of shit’s face again and again until everything cleared from his mind but the satisfying ricocheting from his knuckles to his shoulder each time he smashed the guy’s face.
Over and over, Jig pummeled him, the stress leaving his body one crack at a time.
He had no idea how many minutes passed. Could have been one, could have been twenty, but eventually a strong arm crossed his chest and yanked him back. With a grunt, Jig landed on his ass in the dirt.
“Think you made your point, brother,” Zach said with a smile. “Don’t need to be hauling a dead body back to the clubhouse with us.”
Jig blinked and stared at the mess he’d made. The guy’s face was pulverized. An unrecognizable mix of blood, snot, and bruising. His nose looked like it had been run through a meat grinder. Jig smiled.
Damn, that felt good.
Blinking, he looked at the other men, now on their knees with their hands zip-tied behind their backs. The kid gawked at the man Jig almost killed. His face had a green hue, and he looked like he was seconds away from vomiting. If Jig wasn’t mistaken, there was a faint aroma of urine in the air. The kid wasn’t cut out to be a gang banger if a little beat down had him pissing himself.
“Anyone go in to look for the girls?” Jig asked.
All signs of teasing left Zach’s face. “Yeah, while you were kicking that guy’s trash, Rocket slipped inside. He heard some terrified shrieks behind a closed door. Didn’t want to be the first one in there looking like this. We’ll let Izzy go first.”
Jig nodded. He could admit when he was wrong, even though he despised it. Having Izzy there would be a lifesaver when it came to the girls. He knew she could handle this with one hand behind her back. He just didn’t want her to.
He didn’t want her near the ugliness that sometimes invaded his life.
But for a moment back there, in the truck, he’d forgotten who she was. No, he hadn’t lumped her in with his wife who’d have run screaming from the scene, but he did let his experience with her cloud his mind. Izzy didn’t run from a fight. Izzy didn’t quake and hide when confronted with horrors.
Izzy accepted who he was, violent past and present included. She was a woman who could take care of herself. She didn’t need or want Jig fighting her battles for her, but for a while, she’d been willing to let him stand by her side and tackle them with her. Now he’d fucked that up.
She emerged from the woods, pistol in hand, strutting toward the barn in those damned heeled boots like some kind of mercenary-inspired porn star. If she stopped halfway to them and stripped, Jig would know he’d been cast in a low budget adult film.
