Page 50 of Sling’s Awakening

Mountain kills the mower before swinging his first at Sling’s face. Sling jumps off the mower, dodging the punch.

A feral growl erupts from Sling’s chest as he charges Mountain, who is eagerly waiting for the fight. Almost as if he’s goading Sling into it.

“Stop!” I try again.

My words fall on deaf ears.

“Bring it on, motherfucker.” Mountain laughs. “Is that the best you’ve got? Felt like a little love tap from a club bunny.”

My eyes widen in disbelief at what was just said.

A club bunny?

“Did I just hear you?” Sling growls.

“You heard me.” Mountain crosses his arms, the smirk plastered on his face.

There’s a red mark starting to form where Sling punched him, but he’s fucking loving this, and it’s making Sling more angry.

“You speak English, so I’m assuming you fucking heard me. Your girl here called and said she needed her lawn mowed. It’s not a hardship to pick up your slack.”

Oh shit.

He did not just say that.

There’s no slack of Sling’s for Mountain to pick up because it isn’t Sling’s slack. This isn’t Sling’s problem. Why do these men not understand?

I need to diffuse this before the old lady down the street, who is nosy as fuck, calls the cops on us. The last thing I want to do is haul my ass down to the station and bail Sling out of jail.

“Sling, come on,” I say quickly as I grab his arm, trying to pull him back. “It’s really not what Mountain’s making it out to be.”

I jump as Sling lets out a roar and rips his arm out of my hold before pushing me back. I stumble. My foot hits a little divet in the grass just right, making my ankle roll. I hiss as I lose my balance and fall to the ground, landing right on my butt. I wince as pain radiates through me. The soreness from Sling’s slaps making itself known.

I’m sitting on the ground, helpless as I watch Sling charge Mountain, tackling him to the ground.

Mountain goes down with a grunt.

“You think you’re picking up my slack?” Sling grunts as he lands another punch to Mountain’s face.

“Was the lawn mowed?” Mountain grunts back, and he maneuvers Sling into a headlock.

“It was about to be, jackass,” Sling gets out through a clenched jaw. His face is turning red as he tries to pull Mountain’s arm away from his neck.

“Tap out,” Mountain says, squeezing tighter.

“Fuck you,” Sling grunts.

I need to break this up before one of them seriously gets hurt, but I’m not getting in the middle of that.

“Can y’all stop?” I yell at them. “You’re acting like a bunch of five-year-olds!”

They ignore me as they continue to wrestle on the ground, neither one willing to give up first. Fists are flying as they roll around, both trying to one-up each other and get a jab in where they can.

They look fucking ridiculous.

My head jerks toward the street as I squint, trying to focus on what’s coming toward us.

Sirens sound in the distance.