Breaking Cover by J.D. Rhoades

Author:J.D. Rhoades [Rhoades, J. D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bloodhound Books

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

THE FIRST blow hit me square between the kidneys. Pain exploded through my whole midsection. I heard the breath go out of me, and my back arched involuntarily. Furry stepped forward and smashed a big fist into my stomach. I dropped to my knees, doubled over and retching. Someone kicked me in the side, and I went over. I curled into a ball and covered my head with my hands. I lost track of how many times they punched and kicked me. I couldn’t think. My mind had shut down, except for the parts that registered pain. I twisted and turned like a worm on a griddle, trying to get away even as what was left of my brain was telling me it was useless. The only sounds were the thuds and cracks of fists and boots hitting me, the grunts of effort made by the people hitting me, and my own grunts of pain. Then someone yelled, “Hey!” someone else hollered, “No!” and the blows stopped. I uncurled just enough to look up with one eye. The bikers were backing away. There was a look of shock and confusion on Florida Bob’s face. I shifted a bit to see where he was looking.

Furry was standing over me, his face mottled with rage. Something glinted in his right hand. It only took me a split second to register the knife.

“Son of a bitch,” he growled, reached down and grabbed a handful of my hair. I cried out as he yanked me upright, drawing the knife back for a slash across my unprotected throat.

Training took over. I got my legs under me and drove my body straight up and in, getting inside the range of the slash. I slammed the heel of my hand into Furry’s lower jaw with every ounce of force my legs and arms could provide. The blow connected solidly, snapping Furry’s head back. He went over backward, the knife dropping from his hand. His head hit first with a crack that I could hear over the shouts of the others in the room. His body began to jerk, the tree-trunk legs twitching spastically. I felt something warm and wet against the skin of my arm. I looked down. I couldn’t identify it at first. It was soft and squishy and pink under the thin coating of blood that held it to the flesh of my forearm. With a gasp of disgust, I peeled Furry’s severed tongue away and threw it down onto his spasming body. He’d obviously had his tongue between his teeth when I hit him. Furry’s body continued its dance for a few more moments, and then he lay still. I didn’t have to check to confirm he was dead. That blow was meant to crush vertebrae, and smashing the unprotected back of Furry’s head against the concrete floor was probably fatal on its own.

The room fell silent. I looked off into the shadows where I’d heard Trent’s voice. “He wasn’t supposed to have that knife, I guess.

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