Page 30 of The Mountain Man's Retribution
Thud.
Thud.
Two bodies hit the ground. The first is a clean shot. The second leaves the man writhing on the ground, groaning and crying like a fucking coward.
Belly crawling to him with the quiet stealth of a Ranger, I’m on top of him before he realizes it, punching and choking him out, driven mad by the need for vengeance … to make him feel even a small portion of what Fawn endured.
“Malaketh,” I growl, bloodlust raging. “You will never hurt Fawn again.”
The man freezes, eyes round, head nodding. He shits himself, and I scowl at his cowardice and the godawful stench.
“Never hurt Fawn again?” He whimpers. “The fuck you on, man? I never touched her. Not once. Father wouldn’t let me.”
“How did you find her at my cabin?”
He hesitates, and I shoot his left kneecap, drawing a banshee wail. I shove the rifle more tightly beneath his throat as he coughs and sputters, groaning in anguish.
“Avery McCartney,” he howls.
Mrs. McCartney’s grandson. “How do you know Avery?” I growl.
He shakes his head, eyes wild like a wounded bear.
Bam! I sink a second bullet into his other kneecap, and he wails and sobs like a fucking baby.
“Next, it’s your balls, motherfucker!” I scream, my face inches from his, gun barrel cutting off his air. “If I can find them!”
“Everyone knows everyone up here,” he grunts. “Only you and the girl are outsiders. City folks causing more trouble than you’re worth.” He tries to spit at me but fails, mucus and fear running down his beard. “Kill me!” he screams. “Unless youdon’t have the guts. I swear on my fucking life that when I get a hold of Fawn, I’ll split that fucking whore?—”
He never sees the bullet that penetrates his skull between the eyes.
Clean, fast, deadly retribution.
But far too easy for the sicko …
I scream into the silence of the woods, unable to hold back. Still seeing red, I fight the urge to beat the lifeless body to a pulp, more animal than man in this grisly moment. But I have to get back to the cabin, unable to rest until I ensure Fawn is safe.
Loading the men into the back of their old pickup, I start the engine and slowly back up. Parking, I jump out to assess the damage to my ride. The engine turns over, and though the tires are misaligned, it’ll make it back to my cabin. I’m running out of time, but every move matters. Nothing can be left to chance.
I grab the extra gas canister from the back of my truck bed, ready for fireworks. Driving madcap over rough terrain to the sight of the cabin fire, I abandon the truck in the center, douse it with gasoline, and set the whole fucking thing ablaze with waterproof matches I keep in the pocket of my hunting coat.
As my frantic feet hit the washboarded dirt road, spying my truck parked sideways in the distance, I hear an explosion. Smoke billows as angry flames devour the gasoline, the truck, and the two motherfuckers inside.
“Good riddance.”
Chapter Fourteen
FAWN
“Fawn!” two distinct voices call. One is gruff and masculine, the other is smooth like silk but trembling with fear.
I cannot speak. I cannot think. My mind fixated on only one thing: concealment. Logically, I understand these people must be Bodie’s friends. But how can I be certain after the scene that unfolded moments ago? Especially since he never mentioned the presence of a woman.
My thoughts fly back to the smell of smoke as I took a shower in the bathroom, trying to calm myself after Bodie left. I barely had a chance to get out before gray fumes licked and crawled across the ceiling.
“Fawn, you better come out!” male voices taunted. “Lest you wish to burn alive like the fucking whore you are!”
Malaketh and Kael—Big Man’s sons.
