We know who he is… was. He died trying to protect my wife and baby, and for that, I will make sure his name is never forgotten in our club.
So with three men down, I’m left with four, all of us with zero ammo, and right now, JD and Murf are hiding, ready to attack from behind, while Vender and I lure the fuckers to us. Meanwhile, Mex has already snuck out on the beach side, and should be closing in from behind any minute.
“Where’s the baby?” the fuckwad asks as he approaches, but I just shake my head.
“No baby here, arsehole. You picked the wrong fucking house.”
The cunt laughs. “Nice try, but we know the kid is here. Just hand her over and we’ll let you live.”
Vender scoffs. “Un-fucking-likely.”
“Have it your way,” the other tosser snaps, his shoulders tensing as they step into the tiny living room, and I shift backwards, luring them in further.
In the blink of an eye, they attack, lunging for me and Vender.
With my focus on the guy attacking me, I manage to dodge the swipe of his blade, swinging my fist in an uppercut which rattles him enough to stagger, and then I reach for his night vision goggles, tearing the fuckers from his head.
He snarls something incredulous at me, his sharp blade slicing across my arm, and I manage to grab his wrist, holding the knife back as we wrestle, falling to the floor.
His knife clatters away, and the melee becomes a rampage of fists and elbows as we pummel each other.
The crack of a gun doesn’t stop this fucker from throwing fists, and I have to hope everyone is okay as my men yell, and there’s more chaos close by.
In my worry for my team, my momentum gets thrown off, and I find myself under this crazy fucker, giving him the advantage.
I take a brutal hit to my temple, making me see stars, but I keep my focus on the blade just near my hand on the floor.
“There’s more!” Mex calls from somewhere, and bullets start spraying the fucking cabin again.
Fucking hell. I thought these were the last two.
Just as my fingers find the knife, the guy above me, gearing up to swing another punch, flies forward with the crack of another shot, blood spraying from his head, showering down over me.
Trying not to get this fucker’s blood in my mouth, I shove him off me and sit up to see Mex holding a gun.
“I thought we were out of bullets,” I snap, lurching to my feet to see Vender doing the same, the guy he was fighting now dead too.
“I found… Trunk.”
I freeze, already knowing what’s happened, yet still not fucking prepared for it.
It also explains why there’s no fucking silencer.
“Is he…” JD trails off, and Mex nods.
“Throat slit. They didn’t disarm him though, so…” He holds up the gun. Stocky’s gun.
Suddenly, I feel fucking dizzy. The world spins, and I buckle in half, gripping my knees as I fight to hold it together.
“There’s more, man.” Mex sounds fucking worried. And that’s not a good fucking sign, because not much scares him. “I can’t tell how many, but they are hiding in the treeline in the yards across the street.”
Movement from the corner of my eye catches my attention, and I see another couple of black-clad men slowly crossing the gravelly street, through the non-existent front door.
Fuck.
FUCK!
Straightening, I hurry to the hallway and call to Abbey.
