Page 138 of The Echo of Violence

“Oh, you’re just figuring it out, huh?”

“You were my father’s friend. You killed them?” I choke out. In all my years, I could never have guessed. When I was pinned under the rubble, and he found me and left me, I assumed he’d died along with everyone else. Especially when no one came forward afterward to claim responsibility. But never did it cross my mind that he was responsible for it all.

“Why, dammit?” The tears slide down my face, and I don’t even try to stop them. The sense of betrayal is worse than if it had been the cartel.

“Your father had everything. Every fucking thing, but it was never enough. He always wanted more.”

“So, you killed everyone because you were jealous?”

He waves around the gun in his hand as I reach my fingers down to the torn fabric of my jeans. I slip my fingers inside the fabric and ease them under the sock over my knee.

“Nobody could see what he was truly like. They all fucking worshiped him,” he babbles before looking at me.

I still my fingers, watching him warily.

“He fucked my old lady. Did you know that? I was his friend, and he fucked her behind my back.”

I never knew Rusty’s old lady. She left him when I was little.

“She left, took my kid, wouldn’t let me bring him to the clubhouse, didn’t want him tainted.” He laughs, and it sounds dark and ugly.

“It was all lies. She didn’t want him around the clubhouse because she knew the truth would come out eventually.”

“What are you talking about?”

“My boy. My pride and joy!” he yells before turning his dark glare at me.

“He wasn’t yours,” I guess in a whisper.

“He was. He was mine, and your father stole him from me. He took the only thing I loved, so I took everything he loved from him,” he snarls, pacing.

“I’ve spent years since that night training my boy to be more like me. I beat the McCree out of him. Then you came back. Well, I’ve worked too damn hard for you to fuck everything up now.” He heads back up the steps. “I got rid of the prospect, so the boys will be preoccupied for a while, chasing their tails instead of watching their pussy.” He mutters to himself.

“Wait—what prospect?”

But he’s already closed the door, slamming it behind him. I don’t waste any time. I rip the holes in my jeans bigger and ease my prosthetic off, sliding it out of the remaining fabric of my jeans, before doing the same with the other one.

Taking a deep breath, I yell, “Mercy!”

“Mercy!” I shout a little louder this time before wrapping my hand around one of my metal prosthetics and dragging myself over to her.

Every move hurts. Each slight motion makes me want to scream in frustration, but I refuse to give in when Mercy needs me. By the time I reach her, I’m dripping with sweat, and my arms are shaking.

Laying my leg on the floor next to her, I try to pull her restraints apart, but they cut into my hands. Giving up, I drag myself up her body, clinging to her shoulders for leverage as I listen to the sound of her breathing. I let out a grateful sob as I press against her. This way, my vest will offer us both protection.

Unless he drags me away.

“Shit. I don’t know what to do. Some fucking bodyguard I am.”

I suck in a deep breath to stave off the panic before taking another one. I undo the sides of the vest just before I hear the footsteps returning. Out of time and options, I balance as best as I can as I try to maneuver the stupid vest over my head.

When the door opens with a bang, I gasp just as he thunders down the steps. “No, no, no!” he yells before he fires his gun.

I press my body against Mercy’s, shielding her with my own, the vest covering our heads. A bullet hits my side, followed by another hitting the vest right where our heads are. My inability to get the fucking vest off might have just saved our lives.

His footsteps get close as the gun clicks, the chamber empty. He drops the gun with a roar. I reach for my prosthetic leg and wrap my fingers around it with one hand. He reaches us and yanks the vest away. I hold Mercy as I swing with all my might and bring my metal leg down on the back of his head.

An explosion rips through the building as he falls, bringing my worst nightmare to life. With my anger fueling me, I feel no pain as I slide down Mercy’s body and drag myself to the moaning man on the floor. I swing my leg at his head over and over until he stops moving, and his face is nothing more than a bloody pulp.

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