More gunshots echo through town, mingled with shouts and shattering glass.
Bile claws its way up my throat. Cal better be okay. He has to be.
Out of nowhere, I’m tackled to the ground, chilling psychotic laughter filling my ears. I throw my head back, connecting with whoever’s on top of me.
Only they laugh more.
The giggling is haunting. Makes me sick to my stomach.
“Mac!”
I turn my head and spot Cal, who’s rushing toward us as I flip this fucker off me.
The crazy shit is wearing a green comedy theater mask, only it also seems to be clownish.
“Sick fuck.” I aim at the bastard, about to pull the trigger, when something rips into my left shoulder like a red-hot poker. Took a few bullets before so I know exactly what just happened.
I stumble and drop my sidearm. Cal stops dead in his tracks, eyes wide. Please God, don’t let him watch me die.
Closing my eyes for a second, I take a deep breath, then open them and peer at the guy a few feet away with a gun, the muzzle still trained on me.
A knife is jammed into the guy’s neck. As the body falls, Devon, drenched in blood, stands there.
Jesus, fuck.
Rex wasn’t kidding about him being more dangerous than he looks.
The green-masked psycho turns back to me, kicking my Sig out of reach.
“Get Cal outta here,” I say to Devon.
He nods and races over to Cal who’s making his way toward me, his own knife out, eyes locked onto the giggling fucker now choking me.
But Devon intercepts and drags my Little Fawn away.
Refocusing on my current problem, I grab this asshole’s thumb, bending it back. He releases my neck only to grab hold of the sleeve of my jacket as he unleashes a series of punches to my face.
I block a few as I unzip the jacket and slip out of it, causing him to tumble backward.
But he recovers quickly, launching himself back at me. His thumb jams into the bullet hole and I shout, then throw a punch into the side of his head, one he follows up by spearing me in the throat.
The psycho fuck knocks my legs out from under me, giggling again while I choke, then steps on my wrist as he brandishes a hunting knife.
Fuck.
“Rex!” Goddammit. Please save my ass. Not ready to be taken out by this bastard.
The green-masked psycho freezes, head tilting. I try to yank my arm free but he steps on it harder, staring.
This close, I can see his emerald-colored eyes. They look normal. If only his damn brain was. I yank again and he just adds more body weight.
I follow his line of sight and it lands on the snake and skull tattoo. He looks at it, then to me, and backs off. He bends and picks up my Sig.
He starts to walk away just as Rex rounds the corner, sidearm drawn. To his right, one of the hostiles has a gun drawn on him.
“Rex!”
A gunshot echoes and the hostile drops. Rex freezes and I turn my head to find the green-masked psycho.
