Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 88057 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88057 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“EEEEiiiiiiieeee.”
I was debating whether to cross the street or keep checking this side when a scream sounded from the next lot over. Pure terror, the sort of scream that haunted my dreams about deployments where everything went sideways. No Hollywood effect could ever fake a scream like that.
I broke into an all-out sprint, pulling my weapon free as I ran. And what I saw as I leaped over a hedge separating the lots made white-hot rage join the adrenaline pumping through me.
Three young white guys in ball caps and oversized shirts were next to Sterling’s car, beating the ever-loving crap out of someone on the ground. I didn’t see a gun, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t one.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I bellowed as I drew closer. This wasn’t the moment for a sneaky approach. A loud, showy entrance brandishing my small pistol was far more effective, making all three heads whirl in my direction.
“Damn it, Billy,” one of them said. He sounded young, but his big size made it hard to tell. “Fucker’s got a gun.”
“Cops are on the way,” I yelled, voice strong and steady despite the way my heart was thumping. I hadn’t actually dialed 911, but they didn’t need to know that, and the first guy’s eyes went even wider. Good. Got him scared.
“We gotta get out of here.” Another of the three moved back from the person on the ground. Sterling. I recognized the silver suit he’d had on earlier. Fuck. Ice pounded in my veins, fear tightening every muscle, but I had to keep my head about me.
“Listen to your friends. Get the fuck out of here.” I pointed my gun at the third guy, who hadn’t spoken yet and had a menacing stare. I wasn’t surprised in the slightest when he sideways lunged toward me. He didn’t have a clue who he was dealing with, and I coldcocked him before he ever laid a finger on me, adding a swift kick to his groin in case he was thinking of getting up anytime soon.
“Who’s next?” As soon as that guy hit the pavement with a satisfying thump, I pointed at the younger, more frightened-sounding dude. “You? You looking to die?”
“No. No, sir.” Hands up, he backed away. Yeah, he was young. Twenty if that.
“I’m out of here.” The other guy hauled dude number three off the ground and took off at a lurching run toward a beaten-down pickup truck at the other end of the lot. I memorized the plate before I waved the gun at the kid.
“Sit your ass on down, and I’ll tell the cops you cooperated, unlike those little shits you call friends.”
“Fuck no.” The kid was apparently more stupid than I’d given him credit for because he bolted. I wouldn’t shoot an unarmed kid in the back no matter how much he had it coming, and I couldn’t give chase with Sterling still on the ground in front of me. I had the license plate. That would have to do. I kept the gun out until they peeled out of the parking lot, tires squealing, the foot of the dude I’d punched hanging out the door. Aim worthy of every damn naval ribbon I had, I shot out the back left tire. They weren’t going to get far, but their exit bought me a little time to call 911.
I reported the assault and gave the perps’ license plate number as I crouched to finally examine Sterling’s condition. He moaned softly as I searched for a pulse. Alive. Thready pulse and respiration, but alive. Thank you, Jesus. I hadn’t prayed this hard in decades as I patted him down, looking for knife or bullet wounds. Nasty lump on his head with a gash near his temple, likely from the fall. He winced when I reached his ribs, groaning louder.
“Possible cracked rib,” I said into the phone before making a soothing noise for Sterling. “It’s okay, boss. I know it hurts.”
“Harley?” he said my name so softly I almost missed it over the pounding of my own heart.
“Yeah. It’s me. Let me check you out.”
Damn it. No wounds on his front side, but the tenderness in his ribs and abdomen meant a possibility of internal injuries. Fuck. And double fuck. There was something slick on his side. I tilted the cell phone to see better in the dark. Red. Yeah. Fuck, all right.
As gently as possible, I rolled him to see if I’d missed a back wound. His suit coat was ripped clean through, long nasty scratch on Sterling’s back. Bleeding, but hopefully not deep enough to hit anything vital. However, it was seeping enough to need pressure. Rather than wrestle Sterling out of his coat or dig in the car, I yanked off my shirt. Wasn’t the first time I’d had to do first aid on the fly, but I couldn’t remember my hands shaking this much in the past.