Free Break of the Six (The Preston Six Book 4) by Matt Ryan Page A

making him do that. Why did he have to pull a gun on him?
    A crashing noise from the back of the store sounded and a door busted open, revealing a man struggling to get his pants on. He dripped in sweat and had a stupid smile on his face as he wiped his hands with a wet cloth. “You get another? I’m finished with the last one.” The man’s smile ended once his gaze landed on the end of a gun. He dropped the bloody cloth.
    Joey felt rage explode as he thought of the putrid words spewing from the fat, disgusting man’s mouth. What was he finished with back there with his pants off? Joey’s mouth twitched and his hand shook. He tapped his finger on the trigger. The man wasn’t armed, but how could he leave such a person alive?
    “Please, kid. Don’t kill me.” The fat man fell to his knees, pants around his thighs, his white briefs clinging to his frame.
    “What’d you do back there?”
    The man’s face went white and he jerked his attention from the open door to Joey. A new fear spread over his face. “I didn’t do nothin’. It was Nate! He forced ‘em back there. I just wanted to keep ‘em safe.”
    The door dinged and Joey pulled his second gun out while keeping the first one trained on the fat man. Poly had a handful of knives as she scanned the room.
    “I think it’s just him,” Joey said. “Don’t you dare look at her!” He yelled as the fat man turned his attention to Poly.
    “I wasn’t looking, kid.” The man slumped and looked at the white linoleum floor.
    “What’s going on?” Poly whispered.
    “The guy behind the counter pulled a gun on me.”
    The fat man’s face perked up and looked at Joey’s chest. “Nate ain’t got no gun. That guy behind the counter was dead when we got here. Someone shot him.”
    “Keep an eye on him.” Joey walked to the counter and leaned over it, looking at the man he shot. He held a bottle of Jack Daniels in his dead right hand, some of the liquid had spilled out next to him.
    He staggered back from the counter. That had been the familiar smell. Same stuff Trip drank. He felt like he was going to pass out. He’d done it again—killed a defenseless person. Unitas’s laugh echoed in his head . . . he’d killed her as well, cold and heartless. The greasy man behind the counter was reaching for a drink, the sweats and weird way about him was because he was drunk. He had spent a year convincing himself he wasn’t a monster, he convinced himself that he was worthy of someone like Poly. He wasn’t righteous, he was stupid and reckless.
    “You okay?” Poly asked.
    “I shot him.” He felt the blood draining from his face and he struggled to keep his hands on his guns.
    “You ain’t got to shoot another, kid. I’ll go on and be out of here in two seconds, if that’s what you want.”
    The words seemed distant as Joey struggled to walk toward the man. He needed to see what was hidden by the door, in the darkness behind. With each staggering step the fat man became more frantic in his motions, switching between Joey and the door.
    “You don’t need to look back there, kid. You don’t want to do that,” the man pleaded. He sucked in snot and held his hands together like in prayer. “Just get in that car and move on. You don’t need to see what Nate did.”
    Joey did. He had to see it. He needed a justification for what he did or he’d never be able to move on from it. “Move away,” he said with force.
    The fat man scuttled back on his knees, belt buckle dragging on the ground. “I’ve got a few supplies in my car, you’re welcome to whatever. Please, I don’t want to die,” the man’s blubbering face squealed and it made Joey sick.
    He stepped into the dark doorway, the back room, probably used as a storage room before the Cough. His hand slid on the wall and flipped the switch up, turning the light onto an utter nightmare.
    His mouth opened in horror as his eyes popped. A woman’s naked body, half covered in discarded clothes, lay on