Page 70 of Gotta Dig Deep
Horse didn’t bother announcing himself, because nothing about this was going to be an even fight. The sight of the blood, and how still Glenna lay told him everything he needed to know. Snyder had given up his right to keep breathing air when he laid a hand on Horse’s Glenna.
He gripped the man’s jaw and back of his head, wrenched viciously, then followed him to the floor with powerful strikes of his fists.
A hand on his arm pulled him from the red haze of fury and he looked around to find Glenna on her knees behind him. Horse dropped Snyder’s body to the floor, letting it land in the puddle of blood and flesh he’d left behind, and Horse wrapped her up, angling himself around her as best he could. He glanced down at Snyder’s lopsided head and closed his eyes, burying his face against her hair.
She’d seen him at his worst, but instead of pulling away, she’d burrowed closer. Hands bloody with evidence of his fury against her attacker, he soothed them both, cooing into her ear as they rocked slowly back and forth.
He realized that sometime in the past few minutes the shooting outside had stopped.
“Can you stand?” He pulled back, wincing at the swelling already surfacing in her battered face. “We need to check things.”
“If you’re with me.” She gasped and winced when she tried to clutch at his arms. He cupped a hand underneath her elbow to urge her upright. She came slowly, and swayed, then steadied. “I think I can do anything.”
“Atta girl,” he whispered, his mind flashing back to the moment he’d come into the room. “Snyder’s dead, Glenna. He won’t touch you again.”
“I know. It’s okay.” She leaned on him, then looped an arm around his waist. “Come on, Shammy. Leave the asshole alone.”
With the dog at their heels, they made it outside to find the MDMC was in full rout, dozens of FRMC members having come, with the IRMC riding alongside.
“Brother,” Blackie shouted. “You had all the fun, huh?”
“There’s probably a few left around here,” Horse responded, angling his head to look at his friend. “Plenty for you.”
“Then let’s get to huntin’. I’ll leave this cocker to you and Gunny.” Horse realized Blackie had Moorcock’s arm in one beefy hand, and he flung the man at Gunny’s feet without seeming effort. “Take care of the trash, boys.”
“I yield,” Moorcock shouted, sounding panicked now, one hand pressed against a bloody hole in his shirt.
“Yeah, that ain’t how this shit really works.” Gunny placed a foot on the man’s back, effortlessly keeping him in place. “Stay still, fucker. Let us get a handle on shit.” He cut his gaze to where Horse stood with Glenna in his arms. “You good, brother?”
“Yeah.” Staring at Moorcock, he shook his head. “How’s he still breathin’?”
“Luck of the devil.” Gunny twisted to fully look at Horse. “Brother, are you good? Your woman’s bleedin’. That ain’t the definition of good in my book.”
“I’m okay,” Glenna spoke up. “Horse took care of me.”
“Little sister, again, I say you actively bleeding isnotconducive to my brother havin’ his shit together. Or any of us, for that matter. I would feel a fuckton better if he’d take you inside. First, because you’re bleeding, in case you missed the first dozen times I mentioned it, and second, because I’m about to do some shit I’d really rather you not have to see.” Gunny leaned his weight forward and Horse saw Moorcock’s eyes bulge at the extra pressure. “None of the assholes here were the dogs we were looking for. Means we got information we need to dig for, and this asshole is the likeliest source I can think of.”
Horse looked down to see Glenna had cupped a hand underneath her face. She was looking at Moorcock with a fierce intensity. “He’s the reason for all of this. The reason Jackson’s dead in my bedroom, the reason for all this violence.” She tipped her chin up and looked into Horse’s eyes. “I get that I’m making Gunny nervous for some reason, but whatever he needs to do won’t be a problem. Moorcock is the problem here. Gunny’s the solution.”
Gunny shouted a laugh, the sounds of his humor taking a while to trail off. “I like that, little sister. Gonna get it on a shirt or some shit. ‘Got a problem? Gunny’s the solution!’ Have like a bloody splash behind the words. I can see it now.” Gunny reached down and hauled Moorcock to his feet. “Seein’ as this one is my problem, I’m gonna see if we can come to that solution together.” He pulled one fist back, far enough to be a couple zip codes away, and then unloaded on the man, leaving him swinging in his grip. He shook his fist. “Fuckin’ shit, he’s got a hard head.”
“Dammit, Gunny.” Horse turned Glenna towards the house as Shamu trotted past them, arrowing towards Gunny and his captive. “Come on, darlin’. Let the man do his work in peace.”
She stumbled as they went up the steps and he swept her into his arms. Tension in his gut settled when she nestled against him, her cheek against his chest.
“Today could have gone badly.”
“Don’t I fuckin’ know it.” He elbowed the twisted screen door out of the way and pushed into the kitchen. “But right now, you’re safe, and I’m here.”
“And you’re not going anywhere, right?” The expression on her face was one of loss and grief. “Right?”
“No, baby. I’m not going anywhere.” He deposited her on his bed. “Let me get that first aid kit you have, and I’ll be right here with you.”
He backed to the door, gaze on Glenna, and it was his pleasure to watch her expression change to one of hope instead.
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Glenna
