“Imagine my surprise when we rolled into the only diner in town and this one just started pouring her guts out about one of her waitresses taking off with some tattooed drifter. I must have done something right in my fucking life to get that kind of luck dropped in my lap. Can’t fucking think what it might be, but I must have done something.”
Grace was weeping. She had led them right to me, right to Kelly. I couldn’t fucking blame her though. She had no reason to think the well dressed man sitting in her diner today was on the warpath. She had seen me beat the life out of two people and was afraid I was going to hurt the closest thing she had to children. She didn’t trust me, and of course she had reason not to. Every instinct she had about me was right, and now I had landed the whole lot of them in more trouble than any good person deserved. I had dragged them all down with me and now I had to get them all out.
Think, Hunter, fucking think.
My head was racing a mile a minute and getting nowhere. If I managed to get these fucks off me, the old man would slit Luke’s throat. If I got to Luke, Kelly or Grace would go down at the old man’s order. I was fucked. We were all completely fucked.
I looked over to Kelly and she stared back at me. She had the same look in her eye that she always had. The one begging me to save her.
I turned back toward Lucas and saw the look in his eye too. I went fucking silent and felt the blood slow in my veins. He wasn’t looking at me and he wasn’t looking at his sister. He was staring up at my old man with pure, burning hatred. I had given the old man that same look many times, but I had never seen it out of anyone else, especially a goddamn kid.
Luke, you’ve got to be fucking joking.
The little punk had a knife to his throat and all he was thinking was murder. He wanted to gut that old fucker as much as I did, and he was trying to figure out how he was going to do it. He saw nothing else. I knew that feeling. I knew it well and I couldn’t believe the fucking balls on this kid standing in front of me.
“Lucas. Hey, Luke,” I cried, and the kid’s eyes shot back toward mine. He was breathing deeply and practically foaming at the mouth. “It’s going to be all right, pal. You got me? It’s going to be all right.”
He looked at me and nodded his head, but the fire in his eyes didn’t change. I didn’t want to see the little fucker get his throat cut and I had to make a move quick.
I lowered my head and took a deep breath. This was it, now or never. I gritted my teeth and was about to rip myself away from the assholes holding me when I heard a bloody scream come out of the old man’s mouth.
“You little fucker,” the old man cried. “You little piece of shit. Someone get that fuck. Shoot him. Shoot him now.”
When I looked up, I saw Lucas spit out a piece of the old man’s finger and bolt toward the house. The bastard stood there, holding his blade in one hand and fumbling for a pistol with the other, leaking blood all over his fine suit.
I heard shots ring out as Lucas peeled around the corner of the porch, just as bullets pelted the wood.
“Run, Luke. Run, run, run,” Kelly shouted.
Grace had fallen to the ground in shock.
Holy hell, kid.
Suddenly, I heard shots ring out behind me and realized the fucker digging the blade in my shoulder had taken his hands away to unload a clip at Lucas.
You stupid motherfucker.
I ripped the knife out of my shoulder and drove it in the dumb son of a bitch’s jugular. As I came to my feet, I brought my fist down to the other cunt’s jaw with all my fucking might. He dropped hard and fast. Just to be sure, I picked the baseball bat off the ground and started to bash his skull in. After two hits, the fucker was down for good.
I looked back up toward the porch and saw the two goons who were holding Kelly and Grace reach for their pistols and take aim. I moved quickly, taking cover behind the car as bullets riddled the trunk. I reached down and pulled out the steel that was wrapped around my ankle and noticed I still had the baseball bat in my other hand.
Well, fuck. Knife and a bat to a gunfight, hey Hunter? Better than nothing, I guess.
As I crouched against the side of the car, I saw my old man scurry around the side of the house like the fucking rat he was, trailing blood from his mangled finger.
Yeah, you run, cunt. I’ll be with you shortly.
It was the two fucks with hand cannons on the other side of the car that had my more immediate attention.
Think, Hunter. Fucking think, goddamn it.
There was no time for thinking. It had never been my fucking strong suit anyway. I took three short breaths and tossed the baseball bat high to my right and started to move around the car to my left. When the bat dropped, the two motherfuckers started unloading their clips in that direction, and I took off in a full fucking sprint toward them from their blindside. I dragged my blade across the first one’s throat, tearing it open. Then I went to drop it in the second fuck’s eye. He swung his arm around and stopped me. I watched the knife drop to the ground where the first punk was bleeding out. Then I fell to the ground.