Free The Hunger (Book 2): Consumed by Jason Brant Page B

guns!”
    Eifort kept going, running past the Corvette and reaching the truck.  The doc came up behind her, grabbing at her arm to pull her away.
    The lead truck slowed as it passed the long driveway trailing to the house, the air brakes hissing.
    “Let’s go!”  Lance ran to the window in the kitchen and flattened his face against the grimy glass.  Dozens of vehicles followed the truck, ranging from eighteen-wheelers to SUVs to Jeep Wranglers.
    Eifort tore the backdoor of the truck open and reached inside, pulling out the shotgun.
    A puff of dirt flowered in front of her feet.
    The crack of a rifle echoed over the fields.

Chapter 7
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    “D rop it!”  The voice came from the road, deep and angry.
    Eifort froze in the driveway, but didn’t let go of the shotgun.
    The unseen rifle barked again.  A bullet punctured through the open door beside Eifort and Brown with a muted thunk.
    “Last warning!”
    Lance turned and went for the front door again.  Cass grabbed his arm, stopping him before he could leave the kitchen.
    “Don’t go out there,” she whispered.
    “We can’t leave them alone!”
    “We don’t have a choice.  If we go outside, they’ll get us too.  We can’t help them if we’re all captured.”
    Lance considered it for a moment, fighting against the panic that gripped him.  He gave her a slight nod and went back to the window.  Outside, Eifort dropped the shotgun and held her hands away from her body, fingers splayed.
    A handful of vehicles turned into the driveway, their headlights falling across the lawn and farmhouse.
    Lance pulled away from the window as the beams lit up the glass.  He gave Cass another pleading look, needing her to give him some indication as to what they should do.  His hand went to the .44 in his waistband.
    She shook her head and looked out the window again.
    Three trucks stopped ten yards from Eifort and Brown.  The engines continued to run as a bevy of men climbed out of the cabs.  All of them were armed.
    “Bastard!” Cass hissed through clenched teeth.
    “What?”
    “One of them is the piece of shit who destroyed our boat!”
    Lance touched the bandage on his neck as he glowered through the window.  “Which one?”
    “The second one in.  Balding and thin with a scar on his right cheek.”
    Lance etched the man’s face into his memory.  He wanted desperately to make the man feel the panic and terror that he had felt when the knife slashed into his throat.
    “Well, holy shit!  If it ain’t our friends from the city!”  The man looked back at the lead truck.  The driver hadn’t gotten out yet.  “We found ‘em!”
    The door to the front vehicle opened and a pair of boots jumped to the ground.  A broad-shouldered man appeared from behind the door.  He spat on the ground, sneering at Eifort and Brown.  Lance sucked in a breath when he recognized the man.
    Tony.
    Cass saw his reaction.  She whispered, “Do you know who that is?”
    “He’s Ralph’s right-hand man.  His enforcer or bodyguard or something like that.  He’s a mean son of a bitch.  Wanted to kill me for no reason at all.”
    “Great.”
    “This is them?” Tony asked the man who destroyed the Duchess.
    “Half of ‘em.”
    Tony stepped in front of Brown, stopping inches from his face.  Ralph’s bodyguard was shorter, but significantly stockier than the doctor was.  “Where’s the rest of your group?  Where’s Lance and that blonde bitch?”
    Though they were at least thirty yards away, Lance could see Brown’s throat work.
    “Dead,” he said.
    Tony’s right fist fired like a piston, driving into Brown’s stomach.
    The doc doubled over and fell to a knee, his mouth gaping as he tried to suck in air.  Eifort knelt beside him, putting a hand to his back.  She looked up at Tony in open contempt.
    “You fuck!”
    “Where’s Lance?”
    “He already told you!  They’re dead!”
    Tony stared down at her for a full five seconds.