Debts to Dead Men

Chapter 47: Vengeance

Once Boss Steel and Gloxinia left the room, James lost all sense.

"Kill them!"

Cutter saw no one else, but the man responsible for almost killing him, and his wife. His hands ached to close around the column of Baxter's throat.

Baxter's men opened fire, sending him and Skiver rolling to opposite sides for cover. He ducked behind the ceiling high metal shelves full of supplies. Skiver returned fire from a large thick pipe that jutted up from the floor like a tree trunk.

"One down," Skiver shouted after blasting one in the chest. Cutter didn't bring a gun. No. He wanted to feel it all with his bare hands. He wanted to embed the memory into his body without the barrier of cold steel between.

"It's been a long time, Donovan. I see you went for a career change," James' voice echoed throughout the room.

"You didn't leave me with many options," Cutter growled, tumbling out of the way just as a crowbar catapulted towards his skull.

A war cry erupted from behind him. "I'll bash your brains in!"

Shit. One of his goons tailed me.

The crowbar only missed him by inches, Cutter swiveling with every wild swing, the bar slamming the concrete each time. Baxter's henchman bouncing the bar back up gave Cutter the opening he needed. He struck his attacker in the thigh with his boot.

The goon cursed as he flailed away. Cutter gave chase, but was blocked when his opponent shoved his arm into the shelf, and swiped all of its contents towards him.

"Shit!"

Boxes, tools, and small paint cans spilled onto the floor. Something hard thwacked him in the shoulder. Sparks of pain shot down his arm, but Cutter remained rooted. He refused to fall unless he was dead.

The crowbar came swinging at him again, and this time, Cutter was ready. He blocked it with his forearm, gritting his teeth to bear the burn that spread to his shoulder blade.

"Son of a-"

"Let go!"

The goon tried to yank his weapon back, but Cutter's iron grip was too strong.

"Not so tough without your stick, huh?"

"Keep it!" His attacker abandoned the crowbar, and launched his body weight at him instead.

Cutter used the same crowbar to block the flurry of punches. When his back slammed against the wall, his teeth clacked.

"Okay, that's enough," Cutter said, twisting the corner of the bar just as the man's face came down. He stumbled on impact, cradling his face when Cutter seized him by the collar. The Blaze racer didn't hold back when he slammed his fist against his temple. Just as he went boneless in his hands, another attacker with a gun rounded the shelves. The sound of the exiled Baxter heir chuckling so casually on the other side made Cutter's blood boil.

"We treated you good, Don."

At the sound of rapid gun fire, Cutter heaved up the lackey he already defeated like a shield. His adrenaline propelled him forward even as the body he held thumped against his own. When he reached his second attacker, he threw the limp body towards him.

The man dodged, but not before Cutter's fingers latched onto his shirt. His ears shrieked as a shot fired near his head, and missed. The ringing didn't disorient him. Cutter was a beast with a one track mind. Cutter yanked the goon's arm, satisfied with the sound of bones breaking, and the clatter of his gun falling to the ground. He didn't hesitate to follow through with a powerful hook from the side. The Baxter lackey slammed down onto his knees, before he keeled over, unconscious.