Page 64 of King's Barber
We all moved at the same time. I slammed my foot into Pedro’s leg, driving him to his knees in a scream of pain. Tackling him to the ground, I grabbed the Beretta from the holster on his hip and shot him in the shoulder. He yelled, but I’d already turned to the other guy, taking a shot. Idiot Number Two jumped out of the line of fire, ducking out of the room. Cursing, I glanced at Errol, who nodded to tell me he was okay. I smirked and chased after Number Two, and when I’d found him, he was in some sort of living room with a threadbare couch and web-filled fireplace, his head in a hard-shell gun case. I raised the Beretta to shoot, but he spun around with an automatic rifle in his hands.
“Fuck.” I dived out of the way behind the couch just as he let a round of bullets go, destroying the wall I’d stood in front of seconds earlier. The couch wasn’t going to give me a lot of protection, but it was all I had right now. “Motherfucker.”
Number Two growled. “Come out and face the music, you fucking King scum.Mierda!”
“Language,” I called out in a singsong voice as I popped the magazine and checked the bullets. I had no shots left.Fuck.
“Who the fuck you got with you, huh?”
“Someone who’s going to put a bullet in your head, too, if you don’t put down that fucking rifle.” I glanced around the edge of the couch, but he let out another round of shots, narrowly missing my head and destroying the couch. I cursed at him. “Come on. I don’t want to kill you, dude, but I will.”
He laughed, but it sounded desperate and nervous. “I’ve got an automatic, you’ve got a Beretta. You’ve got no chance,hermano.”
“Did you not see what my friend did to yours?” I licked my dry lips, adrenaline surging through me and making my blood turn to fire. Moments like this got my body pumping and I either wanted to kill or fuck.That’swhy I’d joined the Kings. They understood this feeling and enjoyed it, just like me. We fucked, killed, and drank—the true biker life. “Do you want to end up like Juan, buddy?”
He murmured in Spanish, and I’d bet my ass he was cursing to whatever god he believed in.
“Come on. Put down the gun.” I peeked around the couch, and he wasn’t watching this time. The barrel of the rifle was lowered toward the floor and his brows were furrowed in thought, so I took my chance. I shoved off the floor and rushed at him. By the time he realized what was happening, it was too late. I crashed into his chest, tackling him. He swore and spun us. His heavier weight made the fight easier for him, and he smashed the butt of the gun into my head, making my world tilt and spin. The back of my head where my stitches were hit the hard floorboards, and agony sparked through me. But I wasn’t going to let him win. I swung and got a jab into his jaw, sending him flying backward.
A scream in the kitchen had me freezing long enough that Number Two got an advantage over me. He punched my cheek, sending my head flying back, slamming against the wood again. He wasn’t done. He hit me again, but this time I ducked and his knuckles met the floor. He hissed and yelled out in pain, and I took the chance to roll us and smash him against the solid wood.
I punched and punched until my right hand was covered in the fucker’s blood, and then I hit some more. His nose caved under my fist, and it wasn’t until someone touched my shoulder that the anger rushing through me washed away. I glanced at Quain holding a Glock, the same gun he’d used in my barber shop, and frowned as I stood.
“What are you doing here?” I snapped, but the groan on the floor had my gaze snapping back to Number Two. I snatched the Glock out of Quain’s hand and spun it on Number Two, firing two bullets into his head. He stilled—dead.
“Did that make you feel better?” Quain asked, a hint of teasing in his voice.
I scowled. “Fuck off.”
He nodded, understanding in his gaze. “Point made. Your cousin and uncle are safe.”
“What do you want, an award? I’m sure Father will give you one if you go to LA.”
He grunted, mouth twisted in disgust. “I understand your hatred for him, Luke, but I had a job to do.”
I laughed cruelly. “Does he know you fucked me?”
Wincing, he glared. “That wasn’t my job. I did that because I wanted to.”
“Well, if I’d known who you were, I wouldn’t have.” I glanced toward the door at Sophie and Errol, who stood looking out of place. Their obvious fatigue had me striding over to them, and I gathered them in my arms in a hug. Kissing Sophie’s forehead, I whispered an apology to her and turned her head so she didn’t see the blood and brains splattered across the far end of the room. “This won’t happen again.”
She smiled so sweetly it nearly broke my heart. “It’ll be a fun story to tell at school.”
Errol grunted out a laugh. “No one will believe you.”
“Come on.” I guided them out into the hallway, ignoring Quain. We were done, and whether this had been all about protecting me or not, I had no plans on sticking around with him. We’d made it halfway to the door when a guy I hadn’t seen yet came running from one of the rooms I hadn’t looked in, gun raised and a crazed expression on his face. I turned, raising the Glock, but I didn’t get the chance to pull the trigger.
Quain came out of the living room faster than a copperhead and moved as graceful as I’d ever seen a man. One minute he was standing behind the Mexican, the next he had his legs around his neck, twisting the man’s body and knocking him on his ass before slamming a knife into the guy’s throat. It was like something from a kung fu movie, and all I could do was stare with wide eyes because it happened so fast.
Sophie screamed and buried my face into my chest, and I hugged her closer, kissing her head.
“Stay there, don’t look,” I whispered comfortingly.
The Mexican gurgled, blood bubbling at the wound in his throat as Quain yanked the knife from it. Quain stood, brushing off his thighs as though he hadn’t just killed a man in a matter of seconds, and glanced in our direction.
“I’ll swap you.” He tugged out my Ruger from the back of his jeans and held it out to me, and I took it, throwing the Glock into his hands. He nodded and then strode toward the back of the house.
I let him leave.
