Page 67 of Forget That Guy
Tourists didn’t tend to drive on the mountain roads at night.
They were scary to them.
Pulling to the side, I tucked the bike into some bushes and started to walk, using the woods as cover as I made my way deeper into the area that I knew was Kenswood’s place.
I checked my phone to see if I had any signal and found none.
Though I wasn’t surprised, I was annoyed.
As I got closer to where I could now hear quite a few people milling about, some of them were yelling and cheering. Along with the cheering and yelling, I could also hear other things.
Things that I somehow knew were going to turn my stomach when I got closer.
Because I knew what the sounds were.
Pained animal sounds.
Using the shadows as cover as best as I could since the sparse trees I’d been using had thinned out even more, I got as close to the fighting ring as possible so I could see what was going on.
And my stomach sank.
Dogs fighting.
Dammit.
I would not allow this.
Not in my town.
I had one gun with me, a Glock nineteen that held fifteen rounds.
I had two extra magazines in my pocket.
And there were over fifty people here.
I couldn’t shoot them all if I stepped out and…
The bushes next to the house exploded, and an angry white-haired woman burst out of the trees with a baseball bat in her hands.
She screamed and hit the guy holding a dog back by a leash across his forearm.
The bone in the man’s arm snapped and he let go of the dog.
The dog took off across the yard, straight up the mountain at my back.
I cursed and hurried forward, my gun already in my hand.
“This is despicable!” Holly screeched. “This is utterly and wholly horrific, and every single one of you should go straight to hell!”
Silence.
Then laughter.
The man whom she’d hit reared back with his good hand and aimed it at her face.
I stepped in and caught his good hand with my left hand, twisted, shoved backward, and heard the pop of his shoulder coming out of the socket in the next moment.
He fell to the ground, screaming in agony.
