Page 51 of Tabitha

She is a trained killer, possibly even more deadly than the four of us put together.

Tabitha flies down the street, driving way too fast, and I can’t help but smile as she disappears from view. Though I suspect she’s keeping things from us, there is something inherently honest about her.

She’s not guarded like other people, her emotions there for everyone to read on her face. It’s like she’s never learned to wear a mask out in public, one most people wear to protect themselves. She’s blunt to the point of rudeness, her brain working so fast that I don’t think she sees people or the world like the rest of us.

And I don’t want to see that innocence crushed.

Which brings us back to the reason we’re about to get our asses beat.

The instant the bells over the café door chime and Banks steps out, his men begin moving in our direction. I rise to my feet, the rest of my men following.

“Take her to the house.” Banks shoves the girl he’s dragging behind him toward Steward, the one who’s in charge of running the whorehouse they’ve set up. The man makes my skin crawl. He only sees women as a pieces of meat to be used. He loves to push them, punish them just enough that they break, leaving nothing behind but broken dolls. He knows just how far to go without killing them, no doubt something he’s learned through years of practice, and the fucker loves his job.

River has tried to get some of the women out, but most of them cringe at the thought of leaving the house, much less trying to escape.

“No, you can’t do this!” The girl bucks against Steward’s hold. “I’m your girl.”

Pierce takes a step forward, no doubt to interfere, and I shake my head subtly.

Banks looks the girl up and down, a sneer crossing his face. “We spent a few forgettable nights together. I would never lay claim to a girl who sells herself so cheap. Maybe if you please my men, they might make you theirs.”

She pouts, like she thought she could change his mind by throwing a tantrum, but Banks isn’t like that. He’s too smart to let anyone get close enough to be used against him.

It’s one of the reasons why I find his interest in Tabitha so concerning.

I fear he might actually like her, which puts her in more danger than she realizes.

If it comes down to a choice, I don’t know if he would protect her or kill her to prevent any vulnerability.

It’s a dangerous game they are playing. As much as I want to stop Legion, all I can do is watch it play out and hope to hell that Tabitha knows what she’s doing.

When Steward drags the girl away, I’m not surprised that she doesn’t fight. No doubt, she thinks she’s different. That she can change their minds. She will only become one of their many broken little dolls. As much as I want to protest, I can’t help a woman who doesn’t want to be saved.

In the three weeks we’ve been in town, we’ve smuggled less than a handful of girls out. Most of the militia watch us warily. While some work for Banks, the smart ones are biding their time, likely guessing the real reason we’re here.

Banks scans our little crew, a snarl of disgust twisting his face, like we’re a mangy dog that just peed on his shoes. “You and your men have overstayed your welcome in my town. Leave, or you won’t like the consequences.”

“Your town?” I raise a brow, not intimidated by Banks. As much as I want to put him in his place, my hands are tied until we have a break in the case. “Isn’t ithertown?”

I point in the direction Tabitha disappeared.

Because as much as Banks might hate it, the Buford name still carries a lot of weight. Tabitha’s return has put a wrench in his plans. If he can’t get her to leave town or sway her to his side, he’ll have to make her disappear…just like her grandfather.

“For now.” Banks just smirks and strides away. “Soon, she and this town will be mine, and there is nothing you can do to stop it.”

When River lunges for him, Pierce places a hand on his chest to stop him. “Getting yourself killed won’t help Tabitha.”

River halts, quivering in rage as we all watch Banks drive away in one of his men’s vehicles. Unfortunately, his guard dogs remain behind, the group growing to ten men, like they think they can personally escort us from town.

I only smile, tipping my head side to side, my neck cracking as I ready myself for battle. The rest of my men spread out, waiting for the first strike.

“Remember the orders—keep their faces clean. No weapons. Everything else is a go,” Bruce calls out, the second-in-command standing in the back with a cruel smile on his face.

I’m not sure who throws the first punch, but it’s an all-out brawl in a matter of seconds. Though crashing their date might have been the catalyst, the fight has been a long-time brewing. It feels good to finally lay into them, and I grin as my fists hit flesh.

Though we’re getting our asses kicked, we’re taking the other men out, none of us forced to follow their restrictions. When only a few of them remain standing, Bruce calls the fight. A good dozen men litter the streets, knocked out cold. The table and chairs are destroyed. We stagger, barely staying on our feet, but we’re grinning as we head toward our truck, each of us eager to return to Tabitha.

The fight has changed our focus.

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