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The buyer’s men lifted their weapons, the barrels bouncing between, Hack, Freaky and the others, plus the other Blood Sports that were circled around the SUV.
“You don’t want to do this,” Hack warned.
Mountain pulled his gun and pointed.
Everyone taking steps back from the SUV, making the swath of the end of the AR’s barrels widen. The area covered widening while Mountain kept his gun trained on the buyer’s head.
“You don’t got them, I don’t need to deal with you,” the buyer said turning his head to the side and their eyes met.
Narrowing a bit, as he realized his men may have an advantage, one man had a single target. When the man raised his hand to get the men to lower their weapons a shot came from the far side of the parking lot setting off a barrage of bullets spitting in every direction.
The world slowed as bits of gravel from the tamped down country parking lot burst in the air like little bombs going off. The bullets bouncing and setting off rock shrapnel as Hack and Freaky crouched and ran pulling their own weapons and taking cover behind their bikes.
Mountain knew he had to make any shot count as he took aim when something hot and painful hit Mountain’s gut and he flew backward, his legs crashing into the seat and buckling sending his ass overboard like a drunk frat boy on a yacht. Even with the raised frame of his bike, his height fucked him as he came crashing to the ground and tried to recover. He’d been shot and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. Dragging his body up against his bike, he tried to take aim with his gun.
Steadying himself as his breaths became shorter and shorter. Pulling the trigger his shot rang out
It hit one of the men by the SUV. Sending his head backward into the side of the SUV and leaving a red streak as he slid down the side.
Twinkle lights clouded his vision as he lowered himself to all fours. His fingers digging into gravel as the world narrowed and darkness crept in from the sides. Try as he might to stay with it, any sounds were in a long tunnel miles away, distant and disjointed. Gasping again, he placed his hand over his gut for a moment then flat on the ground. The last thing he saw before his hands gave out and the world went black was the imprint of his hand on the ground in red reminding him of Callum’s hand turkey he’d made and had on Nightingale’s fridge.
