Colt (Devil's Nightmare MC #10) - Lena Bourne Page 0,14
fantasy that was already playing in his mind before Colt showed up that he has trouble adjusting to the new reality. Fucking piece of shit! I’ll show him the new reality!
I stomp as hard as I can on his foot, while at the same time driving the elbow of my free arm into his stomach. My guardian angel, who doesn’t show up very often, must’ve been guiding it because I hit exactly the right spot to take his air. He loosens his hold on me in his struggle to breathe, and I tear free, sliding and nearly falling on the dusty ground in my haste to get away from his knife.
Colt steps between us, holding his knife sideways as he readies to fight Crow. He has height and build on his side compared to the Irish guy, but the taller, more muscular man doesn’t always win the fight. I know. I’ve seen it.
They circle each other like two cats as they size each other up, the only sound the scuffing of their shoes against the dirt. This could still go so very wrong.
And the second I think it, Crow lunges forward, slashing with his knife, driving Cold back towards me. Colt manages to stay well away from the slashes, but Crow keeps on coming, his eyes glinting silver in the moonlight, his face a mask of the quiet rage that’s the scariest kind. Colt makes a move, lunges, and slices forward, but Crow changes his grip on the knife and the direction of his slashes with the speed of thought. He cuts Colt on the arm, driving the blade deep enough to make him gasp.
This could still go so very wrong.
I won’t let it.
I grope around the waistband of Mouse’s belt, looking for his gun. But my guardian angel isn’t with me anymore. He collapsed down on the holster as he died, and he weighs about a ton.
The sound of feet on dirt grows louder as Colt and Crow really get into their knife fight, both grunting and breathing hard now. I’m afraid to look at what’s happening. Afraid to see Colt fall.
I grunt and groan and kick at Mouse’s body until the moonlight finally shows me the metal handle of his gun. I have it in my shaking, sweaty palm the next second. It’s cold and heavy and more welcome than anything I’ve ever held.
Only then do I dare look up at the fight. They’re still circling each other, the quiet rage on Crow’s face now replaced by cold determination. Colt is determined too, far from beaten, but his moves are no match for Crow’s practiced slashes with the knife. The man’s using both hands, handing the knife from his right hand to his left with the deftness and practice of a circus artist. What kinda creature is this guy?
He would’ve used that same talent to cut me up. I know that with the same certainty that I know my name. I point the gun at him, selecting the widest target, which is his chest, just like my dad taught me.
Colt goes for him getting in my line of sight and I let out the breath I was holding with a shudder. Don’t think, just shoot. I hear my father’s voice as clearly as though he’s whispering the words in my ear.
The moment Colt moves back to get some distance from Crow’s knife I squeeze the trigger. The kick knocks my shoulder back painfully, just as the silence of the nighttime courtyard disappears under what sounds like a mountain exploding. It echoes off into the distance before I dare really look at what I’ve done.
Someone grabs my arm. “Come on, we gotta run!”
It’s Colt, he’s winded, and the sweat on his brow is shimmering in the moonlight. Crow is lying on the ground, on his back, his eyes open and black, no different than they were while he was still alive.
I don’t need to be told twice. I barely feel my feet hitting the dirt as we run, but I do feel Colt’s hand on my arm pulling me forward. It’s a warm feeling, a good sensation, welcoming, and safe. Despite the fact that I’ve just killed a man.
Colt
I let go of her hand and point at the dumpster once we reach the wall of the Sinner’s compound, whisper we have to climb over it. But I don’t think she heard me. She’s heading for the wide double door and has it open before I can stop her.