It was more than Josie could take. Worm was practically family, having been his most faithful lackey for years. The Tennessee moonbeam dealer dropped the rocket gun into the bed of the truck and grabbed a pulse rifle.
“I don’t run from no man!” he snarled, stepping up on the edge of the truck bed and then jumping over the side, landing on the road.
“Yer a fool if’n ya don’t!” Gideon warned him. “He’ll kill ya, sure as ya stand there! Now get yer ignorant ass in this truck!” He already had the truck in reverse. His idiot brother was about to commit suicide by stupidity. A lot of men had gone up against Cutter Hawkins. A lot of bad men. Stone-cold killers. Where were they? Well, he knew where Cutter was …
No. He wasn’t stupid. He was an old man. No way he was gonna take on Hawkins. He’d spent the last ten years peacefully coexisting with the man. Cutter had his turf and Gideon had his and they rarely overlapped. No need to ruin things now. He would live to fight another day.
Josie, on the other hand, had let his blood get up. Whereas Gideon would rather stick a knife in your ribs or shoot you in the back, Josie enjoyed a good scrap. He backed down from no one … not even Cutter Hawkins.
“C’mon!” he yelled at Hawkins. “Me and you! Right here!” He raised his rifle and squeezed the trigger, but adrenaline had him jacked up, and he was firing from the hip. He missed right, and before he could adjust, Cutter drew down calmly.
He was still walking toward Josie when he fired. The round shattered a rib and burnt through Josie’s left lung, before dissipating. The impact threw him back against the side of the truck. He bounced off of it and then fell face down in the street.
“Josie!” Gideon screamed! He threw the door open and slid out of the truck. Holding his hands up, he yelled to Cutter. “Don’t shoot, Hawkins! I just wanna get my brother. Then we’re outta here!”
Cutter held the old man in his sights for a moment, fighting the overwhelming urge to put the bastard out of his misery. He knew if the roles were reversed, Gideon would shoot him down like a dog where he stood.
Still, there had to be honor among thieves. There had to be rules … even in crime. Besides, he wasn’t here to kill Gideon Tuttle.
He watched the old man struggle to get his mortally wounded brother up and into the passenger side of the decrepit old truck. Finally, with a sigh, he lowered his guns and turned to walk back toward Lulah’s house.
Four stood up from behind the shelter of the car, relief painted across his pale face. “Man! Am I glad you came along when yo—”
Cutter shot him. He then paused to survey the area. Was there anymore to kill? Satisfied there wasn’t, he stepped toward Lulah’s shattered house.
***
Seven had caught the Vixen by surprise, crashing through the backdoor of the garage the way he did. She’d been loading Lulah’s two young kids into Tex’s SkyLiner when the man attired in black from head-to-toe suddenly came flying through the door and crashed onto the cold, hard floor. She had instantly drawn down on him with what looked like a damned Westchester rifle. Where in the hell had she gotten her hands on one of those? The barrel of that monstrosity looked huge pointed at him. It looked as though you could fly a rocket into it.
“Wait!” he yelled out at her. “Don’t shoot!” He held one hand up, open-palmed, in a gesture of truce. She eyed him suspiciously but held her fire.
Seven looked at the two kids. Outside a battle raged all around the house, firing everywhere. It wouldn’t take but one or two stray rounds or a well-placed rocket, and this would become a tragedy he would never get past.
He heard another attack ship coming in low. He glanced out the broken doorway and saw Sherman jump from it and heard the screaming on the other side of the fence. He knew he had no choice.
Lowering his rifle, ever so slowly, he nodded to the vixen. “Go on. Get out of here. Now! Before it’s too late!”
She kept the big rifle trained on him, but her expression softened visibly. Still, she seemed hesitant. Why should she trust this man who’d dogged her freedom, gave her no peace?
Seven was growing impatient. He knew if Sherman got to them …
“Go!” he yelled out again, this time more desperately. “You dunno what’s coming for you!”
Something in his voice got her attention that time. She sensed the conviction. Lowering the gun, she hurried Blake and Brittain into the car. Once they were inside, she started to climb into the driver’s seat. Pausing, she turned to give Seven a look.
Even though there was never another word said between them, an understanding was passed. Respect. Appreciation. Gratitude. There might come another day when they would face each other again, and the outcome might be drastically different, but it would be the right time and the right place.
This wasn’t it.
She climbed in and fired the engine up.
***
Cutter was stepping through the shattered front entrance of Lulah’s when the garage door exploded outward. A chrome-trimmed projectile hurtled out of it and down the driveway. The big SkyLiner fishtailed right at the street and then Amber had enough room to gain altitude. She gunned those twin engines, and it roared skyward.
He watched it disappear, his face impassive. Inside, he was seething. He took in the wrecked house of his former lover. After all this death and destruction, the quarry had escaped. He’d told Frost to leave her out of this and been ignored. It was a slight that Cutter would not overlook.
Inside, his shoes crunched broken polyglass and other debris. He saw Lulah in the front den.
