Page 160 of Double Bucked

Arris looks at me. He blinks. Then he laughs. “No. I don’t think so. You see…” He motions to the sheriff, who has his face deep in the breasts of a Belleflower Queen. “I have all the law I need right here.”

“I’ll rephrase. You can come with me now and do this the easy way…or I’ll kill you, your entire security team, and anyone who gets in my way. Your choice.”

Now, all the humor has left Arris’s expression. “I do hate it when the livestock talks back,” he says. Then he snaps his fingers.

Two members of his security team close in, blocking me from Arris. Their hands go to their guns.

“Fine. Option two.”

I fit the headphones into my ears and hit Play.

Blondie’s “Heart of Glass” fills my ears.

Things that are important to me about music: it should have a steady rhythm, a good beat, and should be clean enough to drown out the external sounds outside.

All the spikes and jolts of prickly, uncomfortable noise smooth out with Debbie Harry’s lovely, melodic voice.

My body knows exactly what to do.

They attempt to grab me. We dance. Elbow in the stomach, hit to the throat, knee to the face. One man down. The other draws his gun, so I grab his arm, aiming it away. He sinks two bullets into the ground. I kick his legs out from underneath him, take his gun from him, and turn it on him.

I squeeze the trigger.

And then the chaos really begins.

The panic. The shouts. The rush of bodies all streaming toward the door.

I turn up the music. My focus is sharp. Clear. Singular.

There are four guards. Two down. And one target.

Arris-Sergey-Dagney.

He stares at me, eyes wide. Finally, he understands. No matter what he throws at me, I’m not going to stop until I have his throat in my teeth. Finally, he’s afraid.

He tries to swim through the crowd to get to the door.

A guard grabs me from behind. I smash my elbow back, but I’m met with a horse head mask. Irritating. I just damage the thing’s snout. He jabs a stick at me, and suddenly, my entire body lights up. My muscles tense, my teeth clench, and pain vibrates through me.

What is that—a cattle prod?

Fucking cowboys.

I kick him in the stomach, and it knocks the ghastly thing out of his arm. Gives me enough time to kneel on his chest and nestle my gun underneath his chin.

Blood and brain matter exit the mask’s hollow eyes.

An arm locks around my throat, dragging me to my feet. It steals the breath from me, and my gun goes clattering out of my hands. My headphones pop out, the strings tangled in his forearm. Now I can hear it all. The stomping of panicked feet. The squealing of my boots against the polished floors. The ugly gasping of my own breath.

The sound of Sheriff Holden growling, “Stay down,” as he tries to choke the life out of me.

The cacophony of terrible noise, getting under my skin like a million fire ants.

I try to buck him, but he’s strong. I smash the back of my head into his face. That works enough to get him to loosen his grip. I twist to finish it, but…

Maeby comes at him with a bottle of wine. She breaks it over his head. Holden staggers, then falls to the floor.

“Thank you,” I tell her.

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