flat. A red stain blossomed over his tee-shirt, near his chest. Raw fury swept through Bishop. He bellowed out a war cry and charged through the last two members who blocked his path.
Stella's blood ran cold, knowing who had taken the shot. The agent had no time to dwell on the development. Gravel bit into her knees and hands just before the man grabbed her by her hair. Pain exploded over Stella's scalp while the man dragged her backwards, to the waiting vehicle. She screamed in pain and kicked out her feet, wondering just what the patrons in the bar were doing. Cowering in their booths and, hopefully, dialing 911.
In her desperate struggles, she realized someone crept up on her captor. A green-eyed fellow wielding a lead pipe and wearing the kutte of the Tribesmen. He raised the weapon high and arched it through the air like a baseball bat. The pipe slammed against her captor's head, a bony crack crunching beneath the lead. The man instantly released the woman, his whole body lurching forward. He managed to turn, shakily, before his eyes rolled back in his head. He fell flat on his face, blood oozing from his head.
The woman scrabbled to her feet, looking toward the green-eyed man with a thankful smile.
A bellow of rage interrupted her relief. Stella turned, watching with dumbfounded horror as Bishop tore into the van. One of the men had attempted to drag the driver from his seat, another waved a gun at Newb, who struggled to get up. The Tribesmen leader barreled into the van, fists flying. Bishop knocked the gun away from the closest man. The weapon slid quietly from the vehicle. The van rocked on its wheels, squeaking obscenely.
The green-eyed man shot to the van. He hauled the bleeding driver out, bodily dropping him to the ground. The man grunted as a barrage of kicks rained onto his side. Coyote slammed his lead pipe into the van's windows and console, demolishing the vehicles capability to drive pleasantly.
Stella fought for breath as her wide-eyed gaze surveyed the scene. The other two Tribesmen were finishing up the other men, knocking them out with the butts of their pistols. Both of the Tribesmen scowled disdainfully at their opponents, dropping them unceremoniously to the ground. Bishop clobbered people inside the van. The green-eyed man destroyed the vehicle. The poor, young man was sitting in a pool of his own blood. Her attackers lay strewn around the parking lot, in various stages of injury. No one seemed to notice her freedom.
Her stomach twisted as the overpowering scent of blood overcame her senses. Pragmatism shoved all her worries aside. There was a young man bleeding out. That had to be dealt with first. Stella moved toward the van, tugging her phone from her pocket. As soon as the phone began to ring, someone snagged her from behind. Arms locked around her from behind, a cloth shoved in front of her mouth and mouth. She felt herself being hauled, hurriedly, across the parking lot. She realized the sounds of the fighting, the pained grunts, the whistling of the van's broken systems, covered up the echoes of her scraping heels.
A sickly sweet scent invaded her nose. Wooziness and fog instantly filled her brain as Stella scrabbled to fight the sensations. The arms felt like steel around her already weak and bruised body. The edges of her vision blurred and blackened. Her limbs felt like lead, heavy and thick.
For the first time since coming to Grand River, Stella thought about giving up.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
With the van's steering destroyed and Coyote's medical expertise to help Newb, Bishop's mind flickered instantly to Stella. He turned to the parking lot, seeking the woman out. When she was nowhere to be seen, an icepick settled in his stomach. He hopped out of the car, his grey eyes darting from side to side.
His gaze lit on a pair of drag marks gouged into the dirt. They lessened as they were tugged around the bend of the bar. Fear and sickness and
Stella's blood ran cold, knowing who had taken the shot. The agent had no time to dwell on the development. Gravel bit into her knees and hands just before the man grabbed her by her hair. Pain exploded over Stella's scalp while the man dragged her backwards, to the waiting vehicle. She screamed in pain and kicked out her feet, wondering just what the patrons in the bar were doing. Cowering in their booths and, hopefully, dialing 911.
In her desperate struggles, she realized someone crept up on her captor. A green-eyed fellow wielding a lead pipe and wearing the kutte of the Tribesmen. He raised the weapon high and arched it through the air like a baseball bat. The pipe slammed against her captor's head, a bony crack crunching beneath the lead. The man instantly released the woman, his whole body lurching forward. He managed to turn, shakily, before his eyes rolled back in his head. He fell flat on his face, blood oozing from his head.
The woman scrabbled to her feet, looking toward the green-eyed man with a thankful smile.
A bellow of rage interrupted her relief. Stella turned, watching with dumbfounded horror as Bishop tore into the van. One of the men had attempted to drag the driver from his seat, another waved a gun at Newb, who struggled to get up. The Tribesmen leader barreled into the van, fists flying. Bishop knocked the gun away from the closest man. The weapon slid quietly from the vehicle. The van rocked on its wheels, squeaking obscenely.
The green-eyed man shot to the van. He hauled the bleeding driver out, bodily dropping him to the ground. The man grunted as a barrage of kicks rained onto his side. Coyote slammed his lead pipe into the van's windows and console, demolishing the vehicles capability to drive pleasantly.
Stella fought for breath as her wide-eyed gaze surveyed the scene. The other two Tribesmen were finishing up the other men, knocking them out with the butts of their pistols. Both of the Tribesmen scowled disdainfully at their opponents, dropping them unceremoniously to the ground. Bishop clobbered people inside the van. The green-eyed man destroyed the vehicle. The poor, young man was sitting in a pool of his own blood. Her attackers lay strewn around the parking lot, in various stages of injury. No one seemed to notice her freedom.
Her stomach twisted as the overpowering scent of blood overcame her senses. Pragmatism shoved all her worries aside. There was a young man bleeding out. That had to be dealt with first. Stella moved toward the van, tugging her phone from her pocket. As soon as the phone began to ring, someone snagged her from behind. Arms locked around her from behind, a cloth shoved in front of her mouth and mouth. She felt herself being hauled, hurriedly, across the parking lot. She realized the sounds of the fighting, the pained grunts, the whistling of the van's broken systems, covered up the echoes of her scraping heels.
A sickly sweet scent invaded her nose. Wooziness and fog instantly filled her brain as Stella scrabbled to fight the sensations. The arms felt like steel around her already weak and bruised body. The edges of her vision blurred and blackened. Her limbs felt like lead, heavy and thick.
For the first time since coming to Grand River, Stella thought about giving up.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
With the van's steering destroyed and Coyote's medical expertise to help Newb, Bishop's mind flickered instantly to Stella. He turned to the parking lot, seeking the woman out. When she was nowhere to be seen, an icepick settled in his stomach. He hopped out of the car, his grey eyes darting from side to side.
His gaze lit on a pair of drag marks gouged into the dirt. They lessened as they were tugged around the bend of the bar. Fear and sickness and
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