One of the guys
behind him laughed. The bald man turned. “Shut the hell up.” He took a few
steps back, never taking his eyes off of me. He started to shift from his left
to his right foot and back. Was he contemplating his next move? Preparing to
hit me? Turn and run? He probably didn’t expect me to stand my ground like I
had, with no sign of fear on my face. Sure the feeling was there, but I’d
learned to control fear a long time ago.
“Mike, let’s go,”
the one with spiky hair said. “Cameras in here, man. You ain’t s’posed to be
near Michelle, anyway.”
Mike took a few
more steps back and went to the door. Stopped and turned to face me again.
“This ain’t over. Got it?”
“Yeah it is,
Mike,” I said. “Now get the hell out of here before I mop the floor with your
face.”
The men left
the store. Mike stopped in the open doorway, pointed at me then pounded his
chest twice with his fist. The door slammed shut behind him. He jogged across
the parking lot, holding his pants up with one hand, and caught up with his
friends. They walked past the glow of the gas station lights and the night
swallowed them whole.
“I-I’m sorry
about that,” Michelle said.
I waved her
off. “Don’t be. I’m not worried about those guys.” I leaned over the counter.
“I am worried about you though. You should probably lock up and leave.”
She shook her
head. “They won’t be back. Besides, I’d get fired if I did that.”
“They could be.
And fired is better than dead.”
“They’re just
drunk. He’ll apologize in the morning. He’s,” she paused and turned toward the
front of the store. “He’s not supposed to get within one hundred yards of me.
One call and he’ll go to jail. He knows that. He’ll apologize in the morning.”
A tear rolled down her cheek.
I shook my
head. Was there any point in trying? She’d made up her mind about the guy. I
knew then that she eventually planned to go back to him. And one day, she’d
likely pay with her life.
“Keep your eye
out. Call 9-1-1 the moment you see them.”
She nodded then
looked away.
I dropped a
hundred dollar bill on the counter, picked up the bag she’d filled with my
items, and started toward the door.
“Hey,” she
said.
I turned back
to her.
“Don’t you want
your change?”
“Keep it.”
I pushed
through the door. The cold air hit me like a baseball bat. Beads of sweat felt
like tiny icicles as they dried on my skin. I crossed the parking lot
diagonally and continued across the street. Five minutes later the roar of a
diesel engine filled the air. It wasn’t until the engine idled lower that I
became concerned. The truck slowed to a near stop next to me.
“Yep, that’s
him,” a voice said from inside the cab.
The truck
lurched forward. Red taillights illuminated the immediate area as the truck
jerked sideways and screeched to a stop in front of me. Four doors opened. Four
men stepped out. The two longhaired rednecks were the first to approach. One
held a shotgun. Mike stepped around the one on the driver’s side of the truck.
“Hello, again,”
Mike said. “Remember us?”
Mike stood at
the back of the truck, seven or eight feet away from me. His eyes were wide,
his body slightly hunched over. He clenched and unclenched his fists a dozen
times. A wide smile spread over his face. The man with the gun was to his left,
on the shoulder of the road. The other two men moved toward the field. I
expected one to stop when even with me and the other to continue behind me. Of
course, these guys were amateurs, which meant anything was possible.
I stood my
ground. I wouldn’t make the first move unless forced to. Something told me that
wouldn’t be an issue, though.
The gunman
shifted side to side. He was jumpy and sweat beaded on his forehead even though
a nice breeze blew cool air into his face. Was this his first time pointing a
gun at someone? Or the first time he did so with the intention of pulling the
trigger? Either way, it concerned me. I had to take him out first.
The heft of my
Beretta pressing against my side felt reassuring. I preferred to not use it,
though. Not for those guys. I only had twelve bullets left and the way this day
was going, I was sure I’d need them before the sun came up.
“Well?” Mike
said.
I said nothing,
keeping my focus on him and the gunman.
“Aw, c’mon,
Jarhead,” Mike said. “Ain’t you got nothing funny to say?”
“No,” I said.
“You just said it for me.”
“Huh?”
His smile faded
and he squinted at me. It looked like he struggled to make sense of what I
said.
The gunman
didn’t. A wry smile formed on his face and his eyes shifted between me and
Mike.
“By the time
you figure it out, you’ll be unconscious. So it might benefit you to
concentrate on the task at hand.”
The gunman
threw his head back and laughed.
At least one of
them had a sense of humor, or maybe he had smoked enough pot that I could say
anything and he would laugh. I thought about testing this theory out by
throwing some nonsense at him, but it made more sense to throw a shoulder into
his gut. I had two seconds, maybe three, before his senses would return and
he’d take aim. Another second at the most between him aiming and pulling the
trigger. Unless he really was stoned, in which case, double those times.
The width of
the truck separated Mike and the gunman. Mike stood slightly behind the bumper
and the gunman near the corner.
I lunged at the
gunman. One hand aimed at this throat, the other at the barrel of the gun. I
needed to disable and disarm him at the same time. I took two steps before he
opened his eyes. My left fist crashed into the soft spot of his throat about
the same time recognition flashed in his eyes. I grabbed the barrel of the gun
and twisted it so that his wrist bent unnaturally backward.
The gunman
gasped and gargled for air. He steadied himself by placing his free arm on the
lip of the truck bed.
I struck again
with my left arm, driving my elbow into his nose. I delivered a swift kick to
his kneecap. He went down and let go of the shotgun. I spun and stepped back
toward the road, aiming the gun at the group of men approaching me.
Mike stood in
the middle flanked by the other two men. The gunman rolled on the ground next
to me, clutching his throat and sucking in whatever bits of air he squeeze into
his shriveling lungs.
“Don’t move,” I
said.
The moon
glinted off the blade of the serrated edge hunting knife in Mike’s hand.
“Drop the knife
or lose your hand,” I said.
“Screw you,” he
said.
I studied his
face. His upper lip curled and his cheek quivered. He looked crazy enough to
charge me with the knife extended. I had a decision to make. Take the truck and
haul ass, or shoot and add to my already inflated murder count. I aimed the
shotgun and fired into the air over their heads.
The knife fell
to the ground.
I emptied the
gun and moved toward the men. Mike stepped up. I drove the butt of the gun into
his stomach and followed it up with a smack across his head. He fell to the
ground. The other two men came at me together. I kicked the spiky haired man in
the gut. He doubled over. I smashed the butt of the gun into the back of his
head. The fourth man pulled a knife. I tossed the gun into the bed of the
truck. The odds were already against the longhaired man.
“I’m going to
cut you, man,” he said. “Then I’m going to slice your gut open.”
His words
sounded tough. But his twitching and shaking revealed how scared he was.
I didn’t waste
any time. I took a step toward him. Blocked his swipe at me and took control of
his wrist. I spun inward and drove my elbow into the bridge of his nose.
He grunted and
went limp. The knife dropped to the ground. I darted toward it and scooped it
up.
I heard a voice
speak up from behind me. “You and me.”
I spun around
and saw Mike standing six feet away, knife in his hand. Blood covered his
forehead and split into three lines at his eyebrows. The streams of blood
poured down his face. He wiped his sleeve across his eyes. Blood smeared across
his cheeks.
“You don’t want
to do this,” I said.
“Scared?”
“For you.”
He laughed then
spit. “You don’t know me man.”
“Sure I do,” I
said. “I know all about you. I’ve run into bitches like you every place I’ve
ever been.”
He said
nothing. He stuck his arm out and lunged toward me.
I stepped to
the side and watched him slip by and fall to the ground.
Mike got to his
knees and turned as he stood. He approached again, this time slowly and
cautiously.
He brought his
hands up and flipped the knife around in his hand to a tactical fighting
position. The kind of position they teach in advanced combat training. Had he
been a Marine or in the Army? Is that how he pegged me so easily? He stepped in
and took a swipe at me.
I countered and
played defense while he attacked. He’d already taken a couple heavy blows from
me. He might have a few broken ribs and a concussion. All I had to do was wear
him down and then knock him out.
I kept an eye
on his friends in between his attacks. Only one stirred, but he wasn’t a
threat, yet.
“Attack me,”
Mike said. “C’mon.”
I said nothing.
His attack was weak and easy to counter. He might have had training but it had
either been a long time ago, or it had not been very advanced.
He broke
pattern and swung wildly, opening himself up to a counterattack. I took
advantage of the opening and sliced then stabbed, first into his side and then
his shoulder. I took care to avoid any major organs and arteries. Despite this
guy’s overwhelming sense of asshole, I didn’t want his death hanging over me.
The strike to
his shoulder did enough damage to cause him to drop the knife.
I kicked him
from behind. He crashed head first into the truck’s liftgate. Fell to the
ground. He got to his hands and knees and then, using the truck to help him, stood.
He was shaky at first and slowly steadied.
Cars had passed
during the fight. A few slowed down, but none stopped to help or intervene. One
of them must have notified the police, because I heard sirens approaching.
Mike turned his
head at the sound. He looked back at me and smiled.
“What the hell
are you smiling at?” I said.
“You’re going
down, Jarhead. I’m untouchable here.”
I hiked my
shoulders up an inch and let out a quick laugh before taking a step forward and
whipping my right fist across his face. The thud of my fist connecting with his
head coincided with the snapping sound of his jaw breaking. He fell back onto
the truck. His head rolled forward. His eyes rolled backward. He collapsed on
the ground in front of me.
I looked over
my shoulder and saw blue lights reflecting off the sky. My cue to leave. I cut
through the field and sprinted toward the trees. I ran blind until I was hidden
in the cover of the woods, and even then my pace didn’t slow down.
*
* *
“Jack,” Jessie
said as I burst through the door. “What the hell happened to you?”
I looked in the
mirror mounted over the dresser and noticed four cuts on my face and several on
my arms. My adrenaline had been pumping so high, I didn’t realize I had
received the injuries while running through the woods.
“Jack?”
I spoke between
breaths. “Took a jog through the woods.”
Bear lifted his
head. “Why?”
I fell back
onto the bed and stared at the yellow tinted popcorn ceiling.
Nobody spoke.
After a few
minutes I went to the door and looked through the window next to it. “Bear, can
you go around front and see if any cop cars are out there?”
“Cop cars?” he
said. “What the hell did you do?”
I crossed the
room and stopped outside the bathroom door. “I got jumped.”
“Then why were
you running?”
“The cops were
coming.”
“Again, why did
you run?” Bear asked.
“Something the
guy said,” I said. “He said he was untouchable.”
Bear shook his
head. He got up and moved into my field of vision. “What happened?”
“That’s not
all,” I said. “He made me for a Marine.”
Bear shrugged.
He hunched over and we were eye to eye. He nodded slowly and changed facial
expressions repeatedly, like he was thinking about saying something but was
stuck searching for the right words.
“Just go check
out front,” I said. “Stay out of view, though. There were four of them and only
two are hurt enough to go to the hospital.”
He moved to the
door. Turned back and nodded, then stepped outside. The door closed with a
thud.
I looked at
Jessie. She smiled, but her furrowed brow gave her away.
“Jess,” I said.
“I’m sorry I got you involved in this. I wasn’t thinking when we stopped—”
She waved me
off. “I’m glad you showed up.”
“Are you
kidding? Your life might be ruined. Is ruined.”
She crossed the
room and stood in front of me. Placed her hands on my shoulders and leaned in.
I felt her hot breath on my neck. “My life’s been ruined since I walked out of
yours.”
I leaned back.
Our eyes met and locked in that familiar stare. She brushed her lips against
mine and held them close. We kissed. My stomach tensed and eased. I was
transported back in time for a moment.
She pulled back
and dragged her hand down the side of my face.
I winced as her
nails crossed a cut on my face.
“I’m sorry,”
she said, leaning in to kiss the wound.
“It doesn’t
hurt.”
She smiled,
stood and grabbed my hands, pulling me to my feet. “C’mon. Let’s get you
cleaned up.”
I stood and our
bodies pressed together momentarily. She smiled and turned.
I followed her
into the bathroom and closed the door behind me. She turned the faucet on. I
spun her around and grabbed her by the waist. Lifted her onto the sink and
leaned in to kiss her. She kissed me back. Our hands rediscovered each other. I
pulled away.
“What’s wrong?”
she asked.
“Bear,” I said.
“Why are you
thinking about Bear? Don’t tell me I was right about you two?” A smile formed
on her lips as she winked.
I grabbed her
hands and pulled them together, resting them on my chest. “He’s going to be
back any minute.”
“Send him out
again.”
“Too risky.
This place is not safe.”
She sighed and
leaned forward, placing her head on my shoulder, lips against my neck. “Should
have rented two rooms.”
I stepped back
and lifted her chin with my finger. We stared into each other’s eyes for a few
moments.
“I have to fix
this,” I said.
“Fix what?”
“This
situation. I have to clear our names. Something stinks and I need to get to the
bottom of it. But I promise, I’ll fix it.”
She tucked her
bottom lip inside her mouth and let it slowly roll back out from under her
front teeth.
“Is that all
that needs fixing?”
I leaned in and
kissed her again. “I want to fix us, too.”
She smiled.
“I’m done after
this. Done with the Marines, the agency, the life.” I turned around and walked
to the door. Stopped and looked back at her. “I want to come home to you.”
*
* *
“Where have you
been?” I said to Bear when he opened the door and stepped back into the room.
“Relax,” he
said. “Just checking things out.”
“How is it?”
“Seems calm,”
he said. “But the cops are everywhere, up and down the street, Jack. We should
think about getting out of here.”
I went to the
door. “I’m calling Abbot.”
The wind had
picked up since I ran back to the motel. The tall grasses behind the motel
rustled in the breeze, filling the air with a hissing sound. I followed the
wall to a corner and peeked around. Empty. Moved into the corridor between the
buildings so I could get a look at the parking lot, which was empty as well. I
pulled out my cell phone and found Abbot’s number. He answered midway through
the third ring.
“Hello?” Abbot
said. His raspy voice indicated I’d woken him.
“It’s Jack,” I
said. “I’m sorry to wake you. We’re in trouble.”
“Where are
you?”
“We’re—” I
debated whether or not I should tell him. I didn’t. “Don’t worry about that,” I
said. “We’ve got to move. But I need to run something by you first.”
He grunted into
the phone. “Where are my damn glasses,” he said under his breath. “Jack, you
remember the lake house?”
“Outside
Wilson?”
“Yeah.”
“I think I can
find it.”
Wilson, NC
wasn’t too far from where we were, just a short drive down I-95, not even thirty
miles away.
“That’s where
I’m at now. Come out here. I’ve got something else for you.”