Page 97 of Buck Wild Orc Cowboy
My vision tunneled. I shoved past the benches, not caring who I hit or what fell over. Someone’s soda spilled across my boots. I didn’t stop. All I could see was that black thing aimed at a twelve-year-old boy who’d just started to feel safe again.
Max didn’t run. He didn’t duck or scream or cry. He strode out into the middle aisle, approaching Melvin.
“She’s not going with you.” His voice wavered. “We live here now. You’re the one who needs to leave.”
I nearly shouted his name but didn’t want to distract Melvin. The rage in his face. The sweat on his brow. The tremble in his arm, like evenheknew what he was doing was tipping this out of his control.
Pride swelled in my chest for Max, who stood with his hands loose at his sides, his body tight to respond. Just like I’d trained him to do. Fear flashed across his face. This youngling had more guts than most males I’d met. And all I wanted was to get to him before the bastard could do something horrifying.
I was halfway there when a voice broke through the tourist’s cries of dismay.
“You’re under arrest.” My brother, Dungar, surged from the side of the barn, aiming for Melvin.
The hand holding the gun shook, and Melvin glanced toward my brother.
Max moved, rushing toward his father, head butting him, knocking him backward.
Straightening, Melvin flashed the gun around. “Stay back. Stay back. No one needs to get hurt.”
Lifting her hands, Holly roared and flung herself onto Melvin, toppling the man backward.
Melvin scrambled out from beneath her and backed away, the gun still in his hand. With wide eyes, he grabbed the woman in the yellow dress who’d competed with Holly for my basket, yanking her against his chest. He wrapped one arm around her throat and pointed his gun at Max and Holly. “Stop. Don’t come any closer.”
Screams erupted. Benches tipped. A baby started wailing from somewhere to the left. A man yelled, “Get down.”
I reached Holly and Max and nudged them behind me, shielding them with my body.
The woman in yellow went rigid. She was shaking, and I didn’t blame her.
People started to bolt, but not from the barn.They surged toward Melvin.
Ruugar charged down the center aisle like he’d been waiting all day for something to punch. Tark was right behind him, swinging one of the folding chairs overhead. Hail moved slower, calmer, but that look in his eyes told me Melvin would soon be feeling a fist in the mouth.
Melvin waved the gun wildly. “I’m telling you all to get away!”
He fired. The shot went straight up, making splinters rain down from the rafters. People screamed, but no one stopped.
The woman in the yellow dress twisted hard, elbowed Melvin in the gut, and kicked backward, making it clear she knew what she was doing. Melvin stumbled, lost his grip on her. She reeled around, her leg swinging up and out, hitting him hard in the side of the head with a roundhouse kick.
He plunged to the floorboards, groaning, while the gun left his hand and skittered across the floor, disappearing under a bench.
My brothers surrounded Melvin, Hail flipping him onto his belly and pinning him to the ground with a knee.
The woman in yellow lifted her palm to her friends, and they slapped them together. “Knew all this karate would pay off.”
“If he twitches, let me know,” Tark snarled. “I don’t get nearly enough battle here on the surface.”
Dungar yanked Melvin’s arms behind his back and cuffed him while Melvin wheezed and spat curses into the floor.
“You’re going to sit in jail until the state police comes to haul you away,” Dungar growled. “If you even think of coming back to Lonesome Creek again, you’ll face orc justice.”
Melvin looked up at him and for the first time, he seemed to understand. His skin went pale. He flinched like he’d been struck. “Y-you can’t?—”
“I can,” Dungar said. “And I will.”
The treaty allowed for it. Orc matter? Orc justice. Especially when it involved our mates. That included Max and Holly.
Dungar hauled Melvin to his feet like he weighed nothing, and the crowd parted to let them through.
