Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 77980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
My words echoed around the walls of the mostly empty warehouse.
A smaller biker with short blond hair ran toward me, yelling at the top of his fucking lungs until a hit to the jaw shut him up. The kid was scrappy, though, and he didn’t go down easy, matching me hit for hit for a few minutes.
“Old man can box,” he laughed and ducked to avoid being hit.
“Not bad. Too bad it won’t last.” I took a step forward and hit him with three jabs square in the nose until I heard the barely perceptible crack that told me I’d hit my mark.
“Son of a bitch,” he howled in pain as blood rushed from his nose. He took a few steps back as I advanced.
“Fuck this.” Like young punks often do, the asshole pulled a gun on me and smiled. “Not so tough now, are you?”
I shrugged. “Still tough, but not stupid.” I saw the look in his eyes and knew the kid wouldn’t pull the trigger.
He sucked in a breath and let it out slowly, the mark of an uncertain killer. His grip shifted slightly on the gun, and a shot rang out before he could squeeze the trigger, sending him down on one knee, crying like a fucking baby. “You fucking shot me.”
This disbelief in his voice told me these guys weren’t a real threat. They were fucking amateurs. Unfortunately for them, they were amateurs who’d made a fatal mistake.
“I just beat you to the punch,” I told him and came closer, grabbing a handful of hair as I leaned over him. “Don’t ever aim a gun you don’t intend to shoot. And if I see you in the Green Zone again or hear you’ve been terrorizing my people or my businesses, the next bullet goes right here.” I dug my index finger into the center of his forehead, the spot right between his eyebrows. “Got it?”
I looked around, satisfied to see all five of them nodding with fear in their eyes because they knew how easily I could’ve killed them today.
Another guy came forward with all the Psycho shit on his arms and neck. “We are The Psychos, and we do what the fuck we want,” he growled at me, eyes flashing with rage when Terry blocked his path.
“Then I guess what you want right now is to get the fuck out.”
Terry pulled his meaty fist back and let it snap right in the middle of his face, sending his neck flying back at an awkward angle.
“Mission accomplished, dipshit.” Terry laughed like the crazed fucker he was when it came to a fight. “Who the fuck taught these assholes how to fight?”
Three more chairs scraped against the cement floor, and my eyes lit with excitement at what was coming. “Us,” I answered easily and tightened my fists as the rest of The Psychos ran at us.
The young shits put up a good fight, but Terry and I had size, anger, and skill on our side. Fists flew. hard and fast, and I ended up dodging a knife a few times; one small cut sent a trickle of blood down my arm.
Terry and I were a little bruised, but The Psychos were laid out, bruised and bloody with a few broken bones. They would live to regret coming into the Green Zone.
“If I have to tell you again, none of you will come out alive.”
I didn’t wait for confirmation because I knew they understood. Violence was the only language they understood. I left, feeling like at least one fucking thing had been accomplished today.
“This isn’t over, motherfucker!”
Terry and I froze at the voice and slowly turned around.
“I guess they don’t like the easy way,” Terry growled.
“Guess not,” I agreed.
Terry looked at me with a gleam in his eyes. “Bet I can pick off more than you and faster.”
I smiled. “Think so?”
“Willing to bet haggis and whiskey on it.”
“Bet.”
Without another word, I glanced around before we went back inside, aiming at every moving body and shooting until they stopped moving. Less than a minute later, we walked back out. The Psychos nothing but a memory.
“That was fun.” Terry dabbed at the blood on his split lip with a broad, satisfied grin.
“It was,” I agreed as we made our way back to the car and headed back to Midnight Mass. “Now I need a fucking drink.”
“Amen, brother.” Terry barked out a laugh. “You’ll need it to go with that haggis you’re having for lunch.”
I groaned and shook my head. “I hit that last fucker first.”
“You did, but I’m pretty sure my head shot did him in.”
“Cocky fucker,” I grumbled, which made Terry laugh.
“Thanks. Kat thinks so too.”
Fuck, I didn’t need to know that.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Mo
What was it about prenatal vitamins that made them sound like maracas? Being pregnant was certainly no party, not with the morning sickness that lasted morning, noon, and night.