Page 96 of Hostile Saint

Another man suddenly whispered, “He’s got a weapon.”

The first guy explained, “It’s a spoon.”

The other man whispered, “You’re to get him—”

If they knew where I was, did they know where Lacey was? And what about my new family? The thought of them hurt, somewhere in their bedrooms, created instant rage and had me charging forward, full force. I was going to try as hard as I could to get to Lynx and my newfound brothers. After that, I was racing to the institute to save Lacey.

“No!” whisper-yelled my assailants once they saw my attack in progress.

Them still bothering to be so quiet, even though I was awake, told me Lynx, Dagger, and Diesel were possibly still alive—sleeping. That had me considering a whole different scenario. Was I to be taken without them knowing? Just when I had found a home—a group to belong to—I was to be kidnapped?

Refusing that fate, I yelled, “Lynx!” while I fought intrusive arms that were trying to get a hold of me. My spoon taps were now hard whacks!

“Kid?” called out a groggy Lynx from down the hall. Then, “Who the fuck—”

Then I heard a gravelly whisper say to him, “Stallion for life.”

Is that some sort of sick thing to say before taking out my Prez? “No!” Completely confused and in the dark as to how many enemies were present, I spun and dodged all the hands trying to contain me. Whack! Whack! “Lynx!”

The number of whispers and grunts was growing, and so was the number of hands trying to get a hold of me. Whack! I squatted and evaded… Whack! What I was sure of was I had to help Lynx.

A man cursed a whisper, “Need a fucking light to grab him!”

I said, “Fuck you!” Whack!

The white penlight was suddenly on my back as I struggled to make my way toward Lynx’s bedroom. Whack! The glow of the light was just enough to show me the hallway was jammed full of sizable bodies.

As they all kept maneuvering, colliding into each other to grab me, I skirted—Whack!—and darted—Whack!—making it past them and to Lynx’s bedroom. A huge man, with a gun, was standing next to Lynx. Clearly, he was forcing my Prez to get dressed.

The thought of anyone daring to force Lynx to do anything had my vision blurring. Lynx was barely done pulling up his jeans when I plowed him out of the way—so that he wouldn’t get shot as I rescued him—then charged, shoving my shoulder into the other man’s gut and knocking him back into Lynx’s unmade bed.

I had barely landed when I heard, “Saint!” A female heavily whispered, “This is your Road Captain! Stand the fuck down!”

In my Tequila state, I froze. Justice?

From behind me, a cellphone was being held near my head. Apparently, my assailants were friendlies. This particular ‘friendly’ was not looking too, well, friendly. Possibly due to the little trickle of blood dripping down his forehead that had been caused by a, perhaps, wooden spoon?

Ah, shit. I gazed down at the man on the bed.

It was Vice. Nostrils flared. He angrily whispered, “It helps to fight with your eyes open!”

Oops?

As I got off the bed, I noticed there were also men peeking out of both of Lynx’s bedroom windows. One was holding the back of his head.

My spoon skills may not be a good way to make new friends.

Shirtless, Lynx was grabbing guns from his nightstand while his in-charge whisper echoed, “Anything?”

Both men at the windows shook their heads no. One said, “Only our own.”

While tucking a gun in the back of his jeans, Lynx’s whisper was wanting answers. “Dag and Diesel?”

A man—holding his elbow, due to yours truly—stood in the bedroom doorway, quietly informing, “Entering the living room now.”

With another gun palmed and a cellphone balanced between his shoulder and ear, Lynx grabbed me by the back of my neck and guided me past men with more guns—and glares for me and my spoon—out into the living room, where there were even more men with drawn guns, luckily not pointed at me. Whew!

Dagger and Diesel were like Lynx, only in jeans but weaponed up. I could practically smell bullets and metal, there were so many weapons present.