What You See (Sons of the Survivalist #3) - Cherise Sinclair Page 0,86
heaved and spun, tossing him back to Gabe before continuing after the rest.
A glance showed him that Hawk was stationed in front of Frankie. She’d be safe.
Sitting in the pickup, Frankie stared as Bull, JJ, and Gabe chased whoever’d been in the underbrush. She’d never seen anyone react as fast as Bull had.
He’d thrown that man to Gabe as casually as she’d have tossed her sister a scarf.
Be careful, Bull. She sucked in a breath and broke into more coughing.
By Gabe’s Jeep, her cabin neighbors were sitting on the ground. Standing guard over them with a knife in hand, Caz scanned the surroundings.
Beside Bull’s pickup, Hawk was doing the same…only he held a pistol.
“Where’d the gun come from?” she asked.
His sharp eyes paused on her for a second. “Just part of getting dressed in the morning.”
Now…there was a scary habit.
“You saw them first. Why didn’t you chase them or shoot them or something?” Not that she ever, ever wanted anyone to shoot someone.
“I’m the slowest runner.” He glanced at her. “And I don’t shoot unless I know they need to die.”
“Oh.” Fear for Bull had shut her brain off. What if they were simply scared drunks or something? She shivered because…what if they weren’t?
Bull was almost to the second man with JJ right behind him.
“I don’t shoot,” Hawk said. Like he’d done it before. Bull said they’d all seen action. Ugly shit. And Hawk played his violin at night.
“Don’t shoot anyone, Hawk. I don’t want you to shoot anyone.”
“Good to know.” The amusement in his eyes died when he realized she was serious.
Arms around herself, she shivered and helplessly watched the chase. The light from the flames lit up the entire area—and showed Bull catch up to the next man as easily as if the guy hadn’t been full-out running.
Bull swung his arm, and it seemed as if he’d merely swatted the man’s shoulders, but the guy left the ground like a pigeon taking flight.
JJ took him on, and Bull continued.
The last man spun. Knife in hand, he lunged at Bull. “Die, asshole!”
“Eh, Bull’d get upset if I butt in.” Hawk just stood there.
Frankie pushed him to one side and ran forward. If nothing else, she could distract the—
“Civilians.” Hawk grabbed the back of her shirt, jerking her to a stop. “Stay put, yorkie.”
“Vai all’inferno! Yes, go to hell.” She tried to wrench away and couldn’t. Tears burned her eyes as she stared at the men fighting. Please, don’t let him be hurt. Please.
The man lunged, and Bull sidestepped the knife, gripped his opponent’s wrist, and brought his knee up. The man screamed, and Bull plucked the knife from his hand. The guy crumpled to the ground, cursing up a storm, and holding his quite obviously broken arm.
Relief hit Frankie like a tsunami, leaving her shaking.
“C’mon, woman.” Hawk pulled her back to Bull’s pickup so she could lean against the door.
As she watched, Bull yanked the guy up, gripped his uninjured arm, and walked him back. As they approached the pickup, she could hear Bull’s deep voice with that impossible-to-shake calm. “A shame about your arm, but you hurried me. Why’d you burn the cabin anyway?”
After a pat down and search, JJ forced her handcuffed man to kneel next to Bull’s prisoner. She glanced at Bull, snorted, and shook her head. “You broke this one, Bull. Caz’s going to be annoyed.”
“Yeah, my bad.” Glancing over at his brother, Bull called, “Sorry, Doc.”
Checking over one of her neighbors, Caz turned, saw the obviously broken arm. “No mames.” He scowled at Bull. “Vales verga.”
“Hey, at least I caught the bastard,” Bull grumbled.
Che cavolo, the man was crazy. He acted like he’d just gone out for ice cream, not been in a knife fight. Hysterical giggles welled up, and Frankie put her hands over her mouth to hold them back.
As a fire engine pulled up, and firefighters jumped out, Gabe dragged his handcuffed man over. “Down, mister.”
“You figure this is a PZ thing?” JJ asked Gabe.
“I wouldn’t put it past the assholes, but arson isn’t usually their MO,” he said.
Arson? Frankie turned toward her cabin. Firefighters were spraying water on the buildings and the fires were starting to go out.
Arson. She stood up. Took a couple of steps forward.
Hawk frowned. “Yorkie, stay—”
“They threw something into my cabin to start the fire.”
“Yeah?” He turned to where Gabe was talking to a firefighter. “Yo, old man. You got info here.”