Free Slash and Burn by Matt Hilton Page B

That wouldn’t be the case if he choked me to death. Larry picked me up so that I was over his shoulder, then he hurled me through space and I landed on the hard concrete. My head smacked the floor, my teeth gnawing a chunk out of my tongue, but that was a small price to pay in exchange for the oxygen I sucked in.
    I’d also held on to my SIG.
    Larry was coming at me again. I brought up the gun.
    Then Trent wanted in on the action.
    He threw himself across the floor at me. Grabbing my arms, he hauled me towards him, throwing his weight over my face.
    Larry’s feet found my exposed ribs. He got two swift kicks into me before Trent rolled further on top of me, blocking me from his brother’s boots. Not that he was trying to protect me; he wanted me all to himself.
    Trent punched me, his knuckles connecting with the top of my head. He had to rear up to get a clearer punch at my face.
    I felt like I had a mountain on top of me, but I wasn’t about to give in yet. Freeing one hand, I groped for his face. My thumb found his blue eye, and I pressed with all my might. It doesn’t matter how big a man is, there are still vulnerable points on his body. The eyes are the most vulnerable of all. I felt his eye implode, and jelly-like gore pulsing over my hand. Trent pulled away from me. He was screaming again.
    My SIG was now free of him and I brought it between our bodies. I jerked the trigger. Blood danced above him, some of it spattering on the ceiling. Trent groaned, and I heard Larry’s tortured scream of denial. I shot Trent again – just to make sure.
    As his weight collapsed over me, I shoved him aside, putting him between me and Larry. He would have to reach over his dead brother to get at me, but before he could do that I’d put a bullet in his body too.
    As I searched for him, my view was blocked by the front end of the SUV.
    Where the hell is he? I wondered.
    Then I was scrambling out from under Trent’s dead weight, looking for the other man, expecting him to be coming at me from the far side of the SUV.
    But Larry wasn’t up to avenging his brother instantly. The fucker was making a run for it.
    Let him run, I decided. I’d achieved what I came here for. I now knew who my real enemy was and why he wanted Imogen Ballard dead. I could always kill Larry Bolan another time.
    When I didn’t feel like a train wreck.
    I staggered to my feet.
    I half-expected sirens as the local cops responded to the sounds of gunfire. But subconsciously I knew that was unlikely. The twins’ workshop was in a deserted commercial strip. Metallic bangs and angry shouts were probably a regular feature of this place. Maybe screams were too.
    Painfully, I made my way to the head of the alley.
    My bag of groceries was still there, untouched.
    I picked it up and continued my return to the motel. Kate would be wondering what had kept me. She’d probably be angry that I’d been away so long.

Chapter 13
    What I did, I did because I thought it was right. But I couldn’t disregard the knowledge that I’d viciously tortured a man, then half-blinded him. Putting two rounds through his heart when he was trying to kill me was probably the least despicable of my actions. But that wouldn’t be a factor, not when I’d been the one who’d gone into the workshop armed and looking for blood.
    I’ve killed men before. Only occasionally in nightmares do I ever recall the faces of those men. Still, as I walked back to the motel, I was experiencing a cold sickness in my soul from what I’d just done.
    Justifying my actions, the Bolan twins were trying to kill Imogen Ballard. Trent Bolan had murdered others in the past, and would have gone on doing so until I stopped him. Given the opportunity the twins would have murdered Kate and me if we’d been caught in their ambush on the mountain trail. But none of that would mean a damn thing in a court of law. Vigilantism is never tolerated, whatever the justification.
    There’d be a shit storm when the