Page 8 of Stone Cold Savage

Devyn squirmed under his grip and reached across his body to pull the weapon from the holster under his opposite arm. He didn’t try to stop her. Amateur, she thought. She aimed the weapon…

“No!” Dillon yelled, catching Devyn’s attention as they approached.

The man sat Devyn on her feet in front of Coy and Dillon, turned his back to them, tucked Devyn protectively behind him, and raised his weapon as he scanned the area.

Devyn pushed Coy and Dillon toward the house, “Go!”

“Dev…” Coy hollered, but he was too late.

A loud BANG rang out, and the man fell to the ground, his face hitting hard at Devyn’s feet. He rolled to his back, gasping for air, staring up at the end of a barrel in Devyn’s grip.

“Shit,” Coy yelled as agents started to move in slowly, tactically. Coy waved them off and yelled, “We’re clear. All clear.”

“Don’t fucking move,” Devyn said, her breathing heavy and tone seething, unaware of what was progressing around her. His dog was at his side, barking incessantly.

When the man reached a hand in her direction and gasped, trying to mutter a word, she put a heavy foot on his chest, pressed hard, and said, “I said don’t fucking move, or the next one goes in your damn head.”

The dog growled with warning, then continued barking.

“I-I thought you said,” he gasped, trying to catch his breath, “A law-lawyer.”

Coy grabbed her hands and immediately aimed the weapon toward the sky before removing the gun from her grip. “What the hell, Dev.”

Dillon dropped to a knee right beside the man, brushing Devyn’s foot away as she felt around his chest, “How bad is it?”

When the agitated dog approached Dillon, she immediately returned to her feet. “Can you deal with your friend before he takes a bite out of someone?”

“He’s just being protective and doesn’t know who he’s supposed to protect.” The man said, “Diesel, leave it. Easy.”

Diesel sat at the man’s side. Though calm and not snarling, he didn’t miss a single move made by anyone in his view.

Tucking Devyn’s weapon in the back of his pants, Coy reached a hand down and helped the man to his feet with Dillon’s help. Finally standing again, the man hunched over, bracing himself, hands on his knees as he tried to take deep breaths.

“Just knocked the wind out of me.” The man said. “I thought she didn’t serve.”

“She didn’t,” Dillon answered. She stood behind the man, lifted his tight black t-shirt, revealed a flak jacket, and plucked the bullet Devyn had fired from it. She held it up, analyzed it, and shook her head. “She grew up a Stone.”

“Paranoid?” he asked.

“Paranoid?” Devyn clasped her chest as if she was suddenly offended. “Someone please explain to me what the hell is happening here?”

She turned to see the back patio hosting an audience of onlookers who’d rushed out at the sound of the commotion, Kenzie standing among them.

“Kenzie? Aren’t you going to cuff him?” Devyn asked, “Why are you all just standing there? Coy? Dill? What…”

“He’s a friendly.” Coy interrupted, “A damn friendly.”

Confusion filled her expression, “Friendly? Hardly. He literally came from the woods and…”

“And what?” he said, still hunched over.

“You look…”

“Uh-huh? I look?” Rip’s eyes widened with surprise as he waved his hand in a rolling motion as if to tell her to continue.

“Well, like… that.” She waved her hands in front of him as her eyes filled with emotion. “Can someone please explain what’s going on here before I lose my damn mind?”

Kenzie stepped forward and extended a hand, “I take it you’re Rip.”

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