Page 71 of Obey

I hate fist fights. They’re messy and chaotic, making it hard to keep track of who’s where. Right now, I’ve got two people to protect, and that divides my attention further. At least Maddox can hold his own, and he’s keeping one of the guys busy.

Unfortunately, we’re still outnumbered. I notice the woman trying to get into the bar, but one of the bikers blocks her path. I’d go to help her if I weren’t busy defending myself.

I block a punch and use the guy’s momentum to shove him hard against his bikes. He cries out, but while he’s dazed, I go to pull Tommy off Hank.

“Just fucking leave,” I say, throwing a punch directly in Tommy’s face.

I can’t spare a glance at Maddox, can’t even really afford to spare a thought about him, but I know the cry of pain I hear is from him. Someone probably got him in the shoulder. Fuck.

It only makes me more determined to get Tommy down as fast as possible, though, so I lay into him. He may have a few fights under his belt, but I don’t think he’s had the kind of experience I have.

We’re both thugs, but while he may be used to fighting, I’m used to fighting in earnest because someone’s life is usually on the line.

I hear the thud of someone hitting the ground, and I curse, kicking Tommy’s leg to get him to go down like a rock. Something gives, and he falls.

The guy I’d shoved into the motorcycles earlier rushes at me, but I manage to dodge out of the way. He keeps barreling forward—straight into Jim, who has stumbled out of the truck.

“Hey!” Jim says, sounding less drunk than before. “Don’t touch Hank. Or any of ‘em!” He slams his fist against the biker’s back. “Leave my family alone, you fuckers!”

Fuck.

I rush toward Jim, but Tommy is in the way, grinning like a madman. “You watch, old man! We’re going to kill you all!”

I try to get around Tommy, but he body blocks me. I wish I had a knife or a gun on me, and I’m very conscious of the fact that these men could be armed.

Jim cries out in pain.

Anger surges into me, and my next punch sends Tommy flying. He cries out as he slams into the side of the bar.

I run to Jim and haul the guy punching him away. Jim falls to the ground, and I wish I could stop to check on him, but I need my full concentration to deal with this other punk.

I take a punch and land a few of my own when it suddenly gets brighter. The bar door opens, and a man with a shotgun walks out.

“What the fuck is going on around here?” the man shouts.

The bikers all freeze.

“Uh, hi, Pete,” Tommy says. “Nothing’s going on. My boys and I were just…”

Pete aims his gun at Tommy. “You were leaving. Right?”

“Aw, come on!” Tommy whines. “We wanted drinks! We weren’t gonna cause trouble until that little prick opened his mouth.”

Hank stands straighter, and it looks like he wants to say something but Maddox covers his mouth to stop him.

“You failed. Get the fuck out of here, or I’m sending your bullet riddled body to your momma.” Pete motions towards the bikes.

I hold my breath, but Tommy and his friends are smart enough to get on their bikes and drive off.

Fuck.

Pete turns to us, but he lowers the shotgun. “Is everything all… Jesus Christ, Jim?”

I grimace and go to Jim, who is lying on the hard concrete. Blood streams from his nose and mouth, and even in the dim lighting, I can see the bruising beginning to form. His breathing is shallow, too.

“Fuck. We have to get him to Sheryl,” I say. “Maddox, Hank, you two all right?”

Sweat has beaded up on Maddox’s forehead, but he nods. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

---