Page 47 of Taking Root

The bark resounded through the abandoned parlor as the bullet sailed toward Kyle Peterson. Before the man could turn around, the shot burrowed into his calf. Adrian burst out from his crouched position, his legs screaming from being cramped up.

Instead of keeling over, shouting, or any normal response to being shot, Kyle Peterson grabbed his knife off the counter and lashed out, slicing it toward his daughter’s throat. Adrian’s breath caught, and he stopped in his tracks. Danny didn’t. The moment her father’s blade glinted in the dim light, she launched herself over the top of the counter, pivoting her hip. Her leg flew toward him as she executed a roundhouse kick.

Adrian continued edging in closer, but he couldn’t line up a good shot. Danny’s kick didn’t land—her father blocked it with his forearm. She leapt onto the ground beside him with a thump and didn’t pause. She became a blur of motion, years of vigilance put to use. Except her father possessed the same instincts and no emotion to cloud his judgment. Adrian’s finger rested on the trigger, but he couldn’t pull. Not with the way they darted around each other. He’d risk hurting her.

Sweat trickled down his back. His shoulders ached, and his heart slammed in his chest so hard it might burst. Fuck it. He needed to help her. Adrian tucked the pistol in his waistband and pulled out his Swiss Army knife.

Danny lobbed a punch, and her father pivoted around the blow. She swung with her other arm to follow, this time the taser in her hand connecting. The man shook from the jolt rushing through him, but his stone-faced expression didn’t shift. He didn’t falter. Not like Danny stopped. She spun around to slam her leg into his side, trying to catch him unprotected. Her father clamped onto her calf with an iron grip, and he yanked forward.

Adrian was already on his way.

He bolted toward the two of them, his feet rushing as fast as his mind. Even if they didn’t have the Feds as back-up, she wasn’t alone. She didn’t have to face this monster by herself. Kyle Peterson’s blade flashed, but Danny dropped to the ground before the tip sank in. She rolled out of the way.

Adrian’s grip tightened around the handle of his Swiss Army knife. He needed to find an opening.

Danny surged up, wielding her own blade in hand. Except even with his leg oozing crimson onto the floor, her father moved faster.

Kyle Peterson’s arm swung like an executioner’s blade.

Adrian couldn’t jump between them, so he did the one thing he could think of. His calves tensed, and with a running start, he launched himself into the man sideways. The breath shuddered from him as he smacked into him and both of them careened.

He reached forward, grabbing the man as he tried to shift his weight and find his footing. Kyle Peterson’s hand clamped around his wrist like a steel vise. Adrian yanked back to try and get out of it. He swept his foot forward, but the man gripped like a machine.

Kyle Peterson’s knife flashed toward him.

Adrian never stood a chance.

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