Defy (Brothers of Ink and Steel Book 3) Read Free Page A

putting in another round. “And I don’t need a warrant, I’m a bounty hunter,” I say, laughing.
    “STOP SHOOTING!”
    “Nope. This’ll make it easier to kick in the door.” Light from the apartment shows through the next hole I blow. “I sure hope one of these bullets doesn’t get a mind of its own and shoot directly through the door into you.” I tap across the door with the gun barrel.
    If I have to chase criminals all over town, I’m going to have some fun.
    “ALRIGHT, MAN! ENOUGH! I’LL COME WITH YOU!” perp-boy cries out.
    I listen as the last lock is slowly undone.
    “You’re not gonna kill me, right?” His voice is shaking.
    I kick the bottom of my steel-toed boot against the door. It whips open, and I train the barrel of my Glock onto the blue of his left eye. “I don’t know, Tyson, I’ve had enough running for the afternoon. If you tried hauling ass again, I might not kill you outright, but I wouldn’t hesitate to blow out a kneecap.”
    His arms reach to the ceiling; sweat and terror are all over his face. “I won’t run no more.”
    “Then get out here nice and easy, and make sure your hands stay where I can see them.”
    “I’m unarmed.” Tyson steps through the doorway.
    “Turn around and get your hands on the wall,” I say, grabbing him with my left hand by the scruff of his worn, filthy jacket.
    He does.
    “How did you find me?”
    “’Cause I’m the best.”
    “Full of yourself much?” he quips before I shove him so hard into the wall I knock the air from his lungs. He groans.
    “It comes easy when you’re as good as me.” I wedge my boot between his feet and kick his legs apart before I clamp the silver steel bracelet around his right wrist. “But you wouldn’t know that, would you, Tyson? You keep on making poor life choices.” I bring down his arm, cuffing both behind his back.
    He keeps his mouth shut.
    “Why would you want to live here? Don’t you want to make something of yourself someday? Christ, the scum you’re rolling with don’t give a rat fuck if you live or if they cut your head off with a dull-bladed saw,” I explain as I drag his ass down the stairwell of the dingy building.
    The few middle grade kids standing in the street admiring my ’89 Dodge Charger scramble away fast when we come out of the hot, stink-filled building.
    “Those kids are watching everything you all do here, scumbag.” I shove him across the street then into the back seat, smacking his head on the way in. “Clean up your act and put some time into becoming a better fucking example.”
    Holstering my Glock, I don’t bother snapping the leather strap over it. Odds of getting jumped in this neighborhood are too high. “I fucking hate this part of town, and I fucking hate you for making me come into it.”
    I pat the KA-BAR at my side for reassurance, reach into my inner vest pocket and pull out my cell phone.
    After I dial home base I hear, “Axton Security and National Bail Bonds.” Briggs has said those words way too many times.
    “Dude, you sound like a robot.”
    “It’s been a long day,” he groans, more human.
    “Tell me about it,” I quip, shooting a look over my shoulder. “Fuckface made me chase him halfway across the city of Memphis.”
    “Did you get him?” he asks.
    “What the hell kind of question is that?” I smile for the first time today. I always get my skip.
    “You got a call from D’Angelo this afternoon. He mentioned Homeland Security.”
    The smile is gone.
    “Have you seen today’s national news headlines?” Briggs inquires.
    “No, man.”
    “I sent the video to your inbox. Find a hotel, clean up, get a meal and we’ll go from there.”
    “Yeah okay, I’m heading to the precinct to deliver Tyson now.”
    Fuck! I’d wanted to go home and catch a breather—share a few brews with the guys back at House of Ink and Steel . . . and most definitely pick up a girl to help me celebrate my victory here today. Thanks for the cockblock,