Page 102 of Legacy of Lies
Chapter 24
The flurries had stopped, and frigid, dry air now gusted through the forest. Garrison’s lungs burned with each icy inhalation.
It had been more than an hour since he left Zach with his sister and Eric. Would Zach be okay?
Too much time wasted, and Garrison still hadn’t found Sara.
Time was running out.
Hope threatened to knock him off the horse—a faint glow of light on the snow! It led to a rough trapper-type shack. Zach’s footprints had long since faded before Garrison had arrived at his destination. Thank God for Shelby.
Leaving his horse tied to a tree several hundred yards away, Garrison grabbed his shotgun and crept up to the structure. He sidled around to the single window and peered through the hazy, cracked glass. A familiar figure paced in the center of the room. Son of a bitch, he would break Hank’s hands in a million places so he couldn’t touch her again.
Sara hung from her arms but stood on tiptoes. He could see only her profile, but from the way her head tipped back and forth like she was writhing, and the fact that she bit her lip, she had to be suffering.
On her cheek, not a shadow but a dark bruise colored the skin.
Pressed against the building wall, he took deep breaths. Shit, he was already in a crouch, muscles tight, ready to burst in there and drive his fist through the back of Hank’s skull. But he couldn’t. If went in there, proverbial or literal guns blazing, Sara could get hurt. He had to plan carefully.
He might not be able to bring Hank to justice in the next ten minutes, but Garrison would gladly settle for getting Sara the hell out of here right now. Hank’s turn would come.
Without taking his eyes away from the view through the window, he set down the gun and slid his arms out of the coat.
Between gusts of wind, the voices inside the shack filtered through to his ears.
“No one fucks with us. Time for respect. Even more important, it’s time for the Great One to emerge.” Hank could take his Great One talk and shove it up his ass. Even better, Garrison would be happy to do it for the guy.
“God.”
Sara’s strained voice shredded Garrison’s heart. He couldn’t risk firing in there with a weapon. Not with Sara inside.
Hank leaned in close to her face. “No, God isn’t here, my chunky ex-girlfriend.”
Goddamn Hank. Sara was beautiful, smart, and sweet. And her curves were amazing.
Then Hank flipped open a knife, and Garrison went on instinct, edging toward the door. He heard him say, “You’re all mine now.”
The sound of fabric tearing ... Garrison exploded into the structure, knocking the door off a hinge on his way to Sara.
At a dead run, he tackled the guy. Hard to say which satisfied him more: the shock on Hank’s face or the bone-crunchingthudas he drilled the asshole into the floor. They rolled together until slamming into a wall with a shower of dirt and splinters.
Garrison drove a knee into Hank’s chest.
Hank shifted and kicked Garrison’s knee, collapsing it.
Shit, where was the knife?
Hank loomed over him, punching and swearing. Garrison’s head snapped back hard enough to see stars. Only Sara’s panting gasp kept him conscious.
Which was good, considering Hank was now trying to slice a horizon line into Garrison’s face.
He kicked the knife out of Hank’s hand and head-butted him, dropping the guy to the floor where he lay, unmoving. Long may it last.
Garrison staggered to his feet, head throbbing, his knee trying to buckle again. Although he couldn’t walk a straight line, he was determined to reach Sara. His forehead stung, and he wiped away blood that blinded his left eye.
“Oh my God, your head,” she gasped. White lines of pain surrounded her mouth.
“Forget my head. You’re getting out of here.”
