Blood in the Water(114)

If there had been any doubt about who was in charge of this little coup, it was erased when Spike welcomed them. “Shark, it’s good to see you brother.”



Paul couldn’t keep the sneer out of his voice. “I’d like to say likewise, but it ain’t. Where’s Ashleigh?”



“Your girl’s safe, in manner of speakin’, I s’pose.”



Samuel took a step forward, and even though he was visibly bound, all five of their enemies twitched. “I want to see my daughter.”



Spike cocked his head on one side, regarding Samuel with open curiosity. “A last request? Very well, I’m feelin’ generous. Chief, help me escort them next door. Wouldn’t want to take any chances.”



Paul was pleased. Tag and Sinatra would know the Chief was complicit, then they wouldn’t pause when it came to killing the bastard. It wouldn’t be easy to explain away, but the fucker was going to die for his part in this.



Giles opened the door again. Sam and Terry turned of their own free will, but the Chief still gave them a shove in their backs anyway. Spike followed Paul out and went directly to the next room and opened the door, throwing it wide without entering.



Ashleigh was on the bed. The first thing that Paul saw was that her face was bruised and her lip was split. The blood from the cut was smeared across her cheek. The second thing that cleared in his brain was that Garfield was on top of her and it was obvious what he was trying to do, what he’d been about to do. He was clothed, but she was only half-dressed, and his hands were all kinds of places that they shouldn’t be.



A bestial sound of fury erupted from Paul’s chest. Spike, looking for the source of the outrage, stepped into the room. Red mist completely obscured Paul’s vision and the hyper-focus increased until time seemed to stand still. He barely heard Spike cussing Garfield out, or Samuel or Terry’s shouts of anger and promises of a slow death. He heard only the blood thundering through his veins thickened by wrath towards anyone that had been complicit in hurting her.



Garfield was going to die, but he wasn’t going to be the first one. Cut the head off the snake. Paul moved to storm the room, to throw himself across it at the man who’d been trying to rape his girl, but as he moved, as Spike turned and threw his arm out to block his path, Paul was drawing his gun. He shoved it into Spike’s gut and pulled the trigger. Using his momentum and massive strength he heaved Spike’s drooping body off his arm and while Garfield was rolling off Ashleigh to reach for his own gun, Paul put a bullet between his eyes.



He heard another shot echo through the night. He turned and saw the Chief sprawled out on the tarmac, his life fluid leaking out of him. Either Tag or Sinatra had taken the shot. Another gun cracked, Shank and Giles were out of the room, guns drawn. Terry was spinning towards the floor, spun by the impact of a bullet. Paul didn’t have a chance to check him; he aimed at Giles as best he could and fired. Samuel was dropping as he shucked off his fake bonds. As Shank was trying to fix an aim on him, he fired and missed; Samuel straightened and dived, blade in hand. Both men flew backwards onto the tarmac. Samuel drew his knife out of the home it had found in Shank’s stomach and plunged it into the side of his neck. Shank’s arms went limp, his grip on his firearm relaxed as Samuel made sure he was good and dead.



Jimmy was coming out of the first room. Paul brought his gun up to aim a killing shot.



“Shark!”



Paul spun at the shout to find Rabbit outside one of the room, barefoot and bare-chested, his gun aimed and his finger on the trigger.



“Brother, don’t!”



“I can’t let you do this, Shark.”



“I can’t let you stop me.” Paul didn’t want to shoot Rabbit, to shoot his friend. His arm was slower by minuscule moments than it should have been to raise his weapon. A shot cracked. Paul turned his head, his arm continuing to reach to aim at Rabbit. Samuel had used Shank’s gun to shoot Jimmy in the chest. Another crack and Paul felt fire in his arm. He pulled the trigger of his gun reflexively as his arm went numb. Rabbit hit the ground, blood beginning to flow freely from the hole over his heart.



Paul’s gun dropped from his deadened fingers as he dropped beside Terry. Blood was soaking the side of his shirt. As Paul struggled to shake his frozen arm out of his hoodie so that he could use it to staunch the flow, Terry rolled on his side and reached for Paul’s forgotten gun. Before he could register what Terry meant to do, he’d grabbed it and fired it before he’d barely wrapped his fingers around it. When Paul turned, almost falling onto his ass in the process and saw Spike fall back. He was clutching the wound in his stomach, but fresh blood was pouring from what had previously been his right eye.