Free American Lease (A Dylan Cold Novel Book 1) by K. D. McAdams Page B

away. By the time he was close enough to touch the car, the camera had been drawn in and replaced by the agent’s smug, smiling face.
    “You have questions or suspicions about me, you deal with me. Do you understand what I’m saying?” Dylan bent over slightly so that the full force of his voice and words could be heard clearly through the window.
    The agent’s hand lashed out and grabbed the front of Dylan’s t-shirt. He opened the door a crack and pulled hard, smashing the bridge of Dylan’s nose on the frame.
    “Owww!” Dylan cried. He was stunned by the surprise of the action and the violence.
    “If anything happens to that boy or his mom, it’s on you, quarterback,” the agent snarled.
    Dylan placed his hands on the car and freed himself. He thought about declaring his innocence again but he was sick of talking. His right fist drove through the open window and landed solidly against the agent’s head. His left hand reached in and grabbed the man’s shirt and tie.
    “Fuck you! Just leave us alone!” Dylan screamed as he pulled the man up and halfway through the window.
    Instead of fighting it, Agent Smith used Dylan’s pulling as leverage and pushed himself the rest of the way out of the car. A quick left to Dylan’s ribs sent a shock of pain through his body.
    Dylan countered with a right forearm that was supposed to be an elbow aimed at the head. He also threw a weak left to the agent’s gut with minimal effect. As tough as he saw himself, Dylan knew that he wasn’t a fighter.
    The FBI man landed a solid right to Dylan’s stomach, causing him to double over in pain. Taking advantage of the momentum, Agent Smith placed his hands on the back of Dylan’s head and brought his knee up swiftly.
    At the last second, Dylan was able to twist away so that the knee rubbed roughly against his ear instead of connecting squarely with his face. His ear burned from the blow and the strength of the agent’s hands drove Dylan to the ground.
    “RYAN!”
    Somewhere in the distance, Dylan could hear Eliza screaming for her son. He wanted to search for the boy and make sure he was okay, but a kick to his side forced him to roll onto his back and close his eyes. How could he keep anyone else safe when he wasn’t even able to defend himself?
    The violence paused and Dylan hoped it was over. His hopes were dashed when a knee landed squarely on his chest and didn’t move.
    Slowly opening his eyes, he was greeted by the tight black circle of a gun barrel. From twice in one week to twice in one day, Dylan did not like the trend of having guns pointed at him. He fully expected to hear, “You’re under arrest.”
    Instead he watched as the agent grimaced in pain. A brief feeling of pride passed through him with the knowledge that he may be a better fighter than he gave himself credit for.
    Smith spoke carefully. “This is a matter of national security; the rules don’t apply. Give us what you took from evidence or you are going to wish that we were still just watching.”.
    Dylan thought he noticed a hint of an accent and thought it curious for an FBI agent. He didn’t have long to think about it. The agent’s gun was raised and swung at Dylan’s head, the barrel striking him cleanly on the temple. His vision went dark and the noises around him submerged into mumbles.
    When his vision and hearing came back, he was still lying in the road. The agent’s black sedan was gone and the country lane was quiet.
    Rolling his head toward the house, Dylan watched as Eliza stormed down the walk and into the driveway. He carefully got to his feet and felt his head for bumps or cuts. There was a little blood rolling down to his cheek and everything throbbed, but nothing was broken or seriously cut.
    “This is not okay! He’s my baby, you cannot fight in front of him. He worships you!” Eliza trembled.
    “I know.” Dylan walked past her.

Chapter 15
     
    He was bleeding more than he’d expected. He looked himself over in the