Page 32 of The Harder They Ride

It was almost too easy.

A bunch of businessmen on a trip.

A bunch of cowards pretending to be men.

They were gathered on the ground, their faces flushed and their laughter booming through the morning air. As I crept closer, I could hear their crude jokes and their brash boasts, each one trying to outdo the other in their stories of sexual conquest.

“I’m telling you, boys, my new secretary is a wild one,” one of them slurred, his words barely comprehensible. “I had her up against a tree, screaming like a banshee.”

The others hooted and hollered, egging him on.

“Come on, man, don’t hold out on us,” another one said. “You need to share your prizes with the rest of us.”

The first man grinned, his eyes glittering with lust. “She was a real looker, let me tell you. Long brown hair, green eyes, and a body that just wouldn’t quit. I’ll bet she’s still thinking about me right now. Sucks my wife made me fire her.”

The others laughed, but I could feel my blood boiling with anger.

“I wish that fucking trail guide hadn’t run off,” another one said, his words slurring together. “I bet she’s a real animal in the sack. She stabbed James—kinky whore.”

“It was just a fucking flesh wound!” Another one—likely James—interjected. I stared at him, noting that he moved with a slight limp. Claw marks lined his neck.

The men laughed, but their words were like poison to me. I could feel my hands clenching into fists, my rage boiling over.

James was going to die. And he’d suffer the most.

“You should have woken us up and asked for help. We could have held her down,” another one said.

Emerging from behind the rock, I sent the men into a drunken frenzy. I enjoyed the shock on their expressions. The confusion. Two of them even laughed, thinking I was a joke or a ghost.

I was a fucking nightmare.

“Hey, dude. Who are you?”

“Was looking for my wife. She’s a trail guide,” I said while rolling my shoulders back. “Have you seen her? She was supposed to call.”

They exchanged wary looks. Probably shitting themselves. Men like this only respected women when they thought they belonged to another man.

Well, Cloverdidbelong to me. But they’d learn the consequences of their actions soon enough.

“Haven’t seen her,” James choked out.

I cocked my head to the side and smirked. “Maybe I’ll finally be rid of the bitch,” I said with a fake laugh, disarming them.

They quickly joined in, relaxing some.

“Fuck yeah!” one of them shouted. “Women can be total cunts. If you’re lucky, she’ll get lost.”

I smiled. Like this was a fucking joke. “Or maybe,” I began with a laugh while picking up one of their beer bottles. “Some sorry fucker will rape her in the middle of nowhere.”

They all stopped laughing and went completely silent. “What?” I began. “It’s funny, right? We’re all laughing. I mean, then, I could work out all this pent up frustration and kill a motherfucker. Let the vultures eat him. I’ve been dying for a reason to kill. Wouldn’t it behilariousif I crushed his balls? If I pissed on his corpse?”

One by one they stood up, squaring their shoulders at me as I tossed the bottle on the hard dirt, glass shattering everywhere.

James spoke up. “Hey, man, I don’t know what lies that bitch told you—”

“I thought you hadn’t seen her,” I growled.

I charged toward them with a speed and agility that took them by surprise. Punching and kicking, I delivered blow after blow with a precision that was almost inhuman. I hit whoever was closest, fighting through all of them as they realized I was here for blood.

---