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CHAPTER ONE
Savage
The car that I just ran off the road idles in the ditch a good two hundred feet away, and the driver has yet to exit. Seems he left his balls back on the highway where he started following me. Pussy bitch-ass bastard better grow some new ones because fear won’t save him. I’m coming for him, and not to whisper in his ear. More like rip it off his head.
With my gun in my hand, I stand in front of my rented Porsche. Rain pounds down on me, and around me, with the force of metal pinging metal, my jacket hood pulled low, shielding my eyes. Candace is behind me, locked inside the car, crouched on the floorboard, holding a gun. Scared. That’s the shit that shouldn’t be happening. To say that I’m pissed off and ready to kill someone is an understatement. Don’t interrupt my night with my lady and scare the hell out of her, or the sky will bleed your blood.
Seconds tick by, and there is only one reason that I’m still standing here rather than charging at my enemy: Candace. I’d be a fool to leave her alone when that could be exactly what I’m being set-up to do. Finally, one lone figure, shrouded in rain and darkness, exits the vehicle.
A light flickers to my left in a familiar coded rhythm that tells me Adam is here. He’s got my back. He’ll look after Candace while I take care of this little bitch. Or bitches. There could be a car full for all I know. Who I see doesn’t mean a whole fucking lot when I can’t scope out the inside of the car. I start walking. The one singular bastard in my view starts walking toward me. All right. Good. Bring it. We’re doing this. The dirt road has churned into a thick mud slopping around my heavy booted feet, my attention on the gait of the man headed my direction. It doesn’t take me long to figure out who I’m about to beat the shit out of. I’d know that husky linebacker of a walk anywhere.
Tag.
I don’t know what game he thinks he’s playing, but if he assumes Candace being in that car checks my temper or my behavior, he’s gambled wrong. Candace lights me up. Candace gives me a reason to fight. Candace is why he’s about to bleed. I step heavier, anticipating my fist in his face, where I’ve wanted it so damn long that it’s almost orgasmic.
The space between us closes and when I’m within reach of that ugly mug when I can say for certain that he’s not holding a weapon of his own, I holster mine and throw a fist. It lands hard, his head jerking right. He didn’t see it coming. He growls in fury, posturing for battle, fists forward. Bastard is a slow fighter. That move is like an invitation to hit him again. I land another blow. He stumbles, hunched over, but he manages to punch my leg before he comes at me with a tackle. We end up on the ground, in the slimefest of mud. I fucking love it. I lived in this shit in Cambodia for months on end and did so because this piss-ant bastard was pissed off at me for asking too many questions. I know how to make mud work in my favor and against his.
I start rolling the big boy, disorienting him, mud sloshing everywhere. I’m bigger than him, taller, younger. It’s all too damn easy to the point of laughable. When he’s clearly unable to keep up, I flatten him on his back. Well-timed, the godforsaken rain slows, thank you, Jesus. I plant my knee on his chest, his hand in my hand twisted just right. “Don’t fuck with me when I’m with her. Give me a reason to let you live.”
“You really want to kill me while that pretty girl watches? I thought you wanted to be a better man for her.”
Obviously, my mouth has no limits while drinking vodka. “Turns out,” I say, “me killing assholes like you turns her on.”
He laughs. “I bet it does. She did fuck you more than once, which says a lot about her. Does her father’s funeral do it for her, too?”
My jaw clenches. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“Honest Gabe wants me and the good general dead. He’s going to hit the general before he comes home. Kill Gabriel. Save me. Save her father. Save her that heartache.”
“Sounds like a threat to me.”
“It’s a warning. Gabriel isn’t going to stop with me. He’ll come at you, too.”
Translation: still a threat. “Let me be clear,” I bite out, “if her father dies, I’ll slice your throat. He’s your responsibility.”
“Then you best remember that I can’t protect him if I’m dead. In fact, I’ve made sure that if I die, he dies. Then you can tell your little girlfriend got him killed. Killing me kills him. Gabriel is on his way back to San Antonio now. Kill him tonight.”
