“The shed?”
“Yes.”
“Now, why was that so difficult?”
I pushed myself off the floor and saw a knife in a wooden block on the counter. I grabbed it and then used my foot to press the man’s jaw closed. He couldn’t breathe through his nose and with his mouth closed now, he struggled to breathe. I jammed the knife into the side of his neck and, ignoring the noises that emitted from him, I slid the knife around the front of his throat. As blood seeped out, I pulled the knife away before bringing it down with force into his left eye.
With my heart pounding, I stood and looked down at him. I wished I had been able to do this to Michael’s father. I spit on the man’s lifeless body and then hurried out back.
I didn’t have a lot of time because I had no idea how long it would be before Wade came back. I ran along the damp dirt to the small wooden bridge that went over the lake to the shed. While I made my way across the bridge, I scanned the area around the shed and looked at the small window. I tried to see if I detected any movement inside, but everything looked calm for now.
CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
Sawyer
Iheard noises coming from inside the shed, and I crouched near the window to get a better listen. There were definitely two people inside. It sounded like grunting noises. A chill ran down my spine. I tilted my head so my ear was closer to the window so I could try to determine if what I thought I heard was really happening.
Are you fucking kidding me?
I shook my head as the anger instantly intensified. I remembered the rage I felt when I had been staying the night at Michael’s when we were younger. I had been in the bathroom, and when I went back to Michael’s room, I’d heard similar sounds to what was coming from the shed.
Payback is going to be a bitch, buddy.
I spotted an ax near a small wood pile. I hurried over to it because guns in this case were simply not going to be enough. I wrapped my hand around the handle of the ax and pulled it out from the piece of wood it was stuck in.
I approached the door and prayed that I wouldn’t see what I thought I’d heard. Even when I kicked in the flimsy door and saw it happening, I almost couldn’t believe it. The soon-to-be-dead man frowned at me, yet he didn’t stop defiling Jensen.
“Get the fuck away from him!” My voice boomed in the small shelter.
“You are not supposed to be here and are going to have to wait your turn.”
Did he think I was one of them?
“I said get away from him.”
I stepped toward them, letting the handle of the ax slide through my hand. I grabbed the man’s dirty hand off Jensen’s shoulder, tightly gripped three of his fingers together and held them down on the wooden crate beside Jensen. In one swift move, I brought the ax down, severing the three fingers from his hand. The man screamed out as he fell away from Jensen, writhing in agony.
I gently wrapped my hand around Jensen’s thin, bruised upper arm and guided him around the crate. I knew he was weak because of how his arm sunk in my hand. I tried to guide him to sit down on the filthy mattress that lay on the floor. Understandably, he struggled in my hand and tried to pull away from me, stumbling to the cold, hard ground.
Refusing to look at me, he turned his back to me and curled his shoulders forward as he lowered his head. On shaky legs, he pushed himself off the ground and took a step away from me. Either his legs gave out on him from weakness or pain seized him and forced him to buckle and bend at the waist. I caught him with one hand, and he tried to push himself away from me again. From being around Michael in these repulsive situations, I knew it was a combination of shame and fear this young man was feeling.
“Easy, you don’t need to fear me,” I said to him. I slowly let go of him so he wouldn’t panic again. “I promise you.”
With my hand lightly on his upper back, I walked him over to the mattress and helped him sit down. While the man bellowed in pain behind me, I crouched and lowered my head so I could see his face.
“Are you Jensen?” I asked as I reached for what appeared to be a pile of crumpled clothes. As I pulled them closer, they felt ice-cold under my hands. I grabbed the plaid flannel shirt from the heap and opened it up. I draped it around the back of his small frame.
He didn’t lift his head to look at me, but he nodded.
“I’m Sawyer. Your sister sent me.” I hoped by mentioning his sister, he would trust me a little more. At least he trusted that I wasn’t going to hurt him. “Just give me a moment to make sure this son of a bitch doesn’t touch anyone ever again. Don’t look over there.”
I stood and went over to the man holding his bloody hand.
“Who the fuck are you?” he managed to slur in English as I towered over him.
“I’m the man who is going to send you on your way to hell.” I pulled my gun from the holster and pointed it at him. “Let me see your hand,” I said.
“Why?”
