Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 76082 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76082 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
"Fuck," growls one of them. His voice is deep and wheezy. "It was supposed to be broken."
"Just rip it the fuck off. That lock ain't gonna hold for shit." The other guy's voice is oddly whiny.
There's more rattling. Fuck it, I'm not letting those shits break in. A few more steps, and then they're there, right in front of me. Definitely Unwanted. And definitely in fucking trouble.
"Hey, motherfuckers. I didn’t know it was cookie season yet. Where are your little green skirts?"
"What the fuck?" They whirl around together, just in time for me to grab the whiny one and slam him into the other guy. They go to the ground together in a jumble of limbs, like a fucking game of pickup sticks.
I'm on them in an instant, grabbing the bigger one by his collar and slamming my fist into his face. He groans as his head snaps back.
The little fucker is fast, though. Suddenly he's on my back, clinging like a fucking murder koala. He holds a knife to my throat and hisses, "I don't know who the fuck you are, but you're going to pay for this. Let go of my buddy, or I'm going to give you a new fucking mouth to bleed through."
I drop the fucker in front of me, but this isn't the first time I've had someone grab me from behind, and I can guarantee that I'm stronger than this fuck. And probably faster.
Grabbing his knife arm around the wrist, I pull it out and around, twisting until I hear a satisfying crack, followed by a pained scream. "Motherfucker!" He rolls off me, but I get a fist to the fucking jaw in return from the big guy. Fuck, I'm rusty. In my fighting days, taking on trash like this would've been a walk in the park.
Doesn't mean I'm gonna fucking lose, though.
When the big guy comes after me with a second punch, he’s so fucking clumsy I see it a mile away. I knock him aside and plant my fist so solidly in his face it fucking launches him. His feet go up, and he lands on the ground with a heavy thud, skidding across the grass. Lights fucking out, asshole.
The other one's palming his knife in his off hand, and I can fucking see it quiver as he points it towards me. Past the shaking blade, I find his wide eyes. He knows he's in fucking trouble if I wanna push the issue. I could fucking murder both of them, and no one would fucking miss them.
"Don't you fucking come a step closer." It's a threat of desperation. He doesn't have a damn chance.
I flip my cut open, letting the flickering street light reflect off the grip of my pistol. "I could’a killed you fuckers before you even saw me. I'm giving you one goddamn chance to get the fuck outta here before I execute the both of you. If I ever hear about you fuckers sniffing around his building again, I'll find you and finish the fucking job. That clear?" I rest my hand on my gun for effect.
The knife hand doesn't get any steadier, that's for fucking sure.
"We'll fuck off," he says. "No more trouble, okay? We're outta here. This shit ain't worth it."
"Wait. What the fuck were you doing here?"
"Nothing. Just a little club business. Honest. We didn't know the Eagles were watching the building, all right?" Without taking his eyes off me, he slides his knife into a sheath on his belt, then gets his good arm under his friend. "Screwball, fucking wake up. Come on."
The big guy stirs, and while I watch, they get themselves together and outta here. The little guy clutches his arms, and Screwball's going to be washing blood off his face and clothes tonight, not to mention get his nose set. "Remember, fuckers, this place is off limits. For you and your asshole brothers, got it? It's under Screaming Eagles protection."
They nod frantically as they withdraw. A few moments later, a couple of motorcycles fire up in the darkness and pull out. I stay until the sound of engines is completely drowned out by the usual sounds of the city at night.
I don't fucking believe for a moment that they won’t come back, but it won’t be tonight. It's time to have a chat with the others and ramp up our patrols. Eagle-eye needs to wrap up this shit with Cain, because this won’t just go away.
Do I tell Natalie? Not sure. It’ll just freak her out about something she can’t change, but Animal and Quickshot need to hear.
Pulling my bike off its pegs, I throw my leg over and start it up. The curtain in Natalie’s apartment moves, but this isn’t a safe place to be. If these fuckers hurt Sandra, they hurt Natalie, and we're not going to fucking stand for that.