Page 12 of Mercenary's Redemption

I toss the punk through another table, sending beer bottles and shards of glass raining down as I pounce after him.

Smash after earth-shaking smash, unloading years of fury and abandonment into the poor bastard's face until my knuckles are thick with his blood...

It's only when a thin, trembling voice finally cuts through my haze that I pause, chest heaving.

"P-Please...stop...!"

Panting harshly, I slowly lift my gaze to find Holly standing in the open doorway of the supply closet. Her eyes are wide with shock, one hand pressed to her mouth as she takes in the absolute carnage surrounding us.

The scrawny biker punk lies in a crumpled, bloody heap amidst the shattered remains of tables and chairs. He's still conscious, but just barely, wheezing labored breaths through a face so swollen and pulverized it's almost unrecognizable.

I must be a terrifying sight - shirtless, dripping with sweat, and streaked with the crimson evidence of the brutal beating I've just doled out. My knuckles are raw and split, flames of rage still flickering behind my eyes.

Yet Holly doesn't look afraid, not of me at least. There's something else in her expression as our gazes lock - pity, maybe? Sadness? An emotion I can't quite read clouding her pretty features.

The tension hangs thick in the trashed bar until, finally, I slowly uncurl my fists and straighten up from my fighting crouch. I give a minute shake of my head as if to clear it.

"He'll live," I grunt out, my voice sounding unnaturally hoarse even to my own ears. "They always do..."

The scrawny man lets out a pitiful moan from the floor, like he's trying to form words but lacks the strength. I don't spare him a second glance as I turn away and start gathering up my tattered shirt.

I can still feel Holly's probing stare burning into the back of my sweat-soaked skin as I struggle to stuff my trembling arms back into the sleeves. That merciless side of myself that I always keep brutally contained...she just witnessed it in all its primal glory.

Part of me expects her to turn and flee, to get as far away from the monster she just glimpsed as possible. But the soft footsteps behind me tell a different story as she slowly approaches.

"You...you didn't have to go that far," Holly tells me.

Shrugging into my tattered shirt, I let out a loud laugh.

"That scrawny piece of garbage had it coming the second he stepped foot in my place waving a blade around." Turning to face her, I jerk my chin towards the groaning man crumpled amidst the debris. "In fact, he'd do well to get his worthless hide out of here before I really lose my temper again."

As if on cue, the scrawny biker lets out a pitiful whimper and starts trying to drag himself across the sticky floor, leaving a smeared trail of blood in his wake.

Holly starts moving towards the battered man, clearly intending to try and help him despite the vicious beating I just laid into him.

"Don't you dare," I growl, holding up one hand in a stern gesture to halt her approach.

She freezes, eyes widening slightly as she looks up at me in surprise.

"Were you really about to go over there and try nursing that dirtbag back to health?" I demand incredulously.

To her credit, Holly lifts her chin defiantly.

"I'm still a nurse, Chance. I don't just stop being one because the person is..." She casts a hesitant glance at the groaning biker. "A bad man. I thought you would've realized that about me by now."

I shake my head slowly, hardly able to believe her bleeding heart.

"That piece of trash wouldn't hesitate to hurt you - hell, he'd probably put a bullet in your head if he had the chance. Yet you want to go nurse him back to health? You're crazier than me."

Her eyes flash with a sudden spark of fire.

"Maybe I am crazy then. And maybe you're just a fool who can't see the good in anyone!"

While we're bickering, the beaten biker has managed to drag himself upright, favoring his left leg as he limps with agonizing slowness toward the exit. He pauses to shoot me one last venomous glare before shoving his way outside, the rumble of his motorcycle firing up moments later.

"You really think he's fit to be driving in that condition?" Holly remarks, raising one slim eyebrow at me.

I shrug nonchalantly. "Don't rightly care one way or the other."

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