Last Stand (The Survivalist Book 7) Read Free

entire gang quickly turned in his direction. Larry shoved Leila back toward Lincoln and slid the hunting rifle off his shoulder.
    Mason offered a friendly wave and continued his steady advance.
    The men looked to one another, amused as much as anything. What kind of fool approached four armed men with a smile and a wave?
    When Mason got to within about ten yards, he stopped. Bowie stood by his side, his tail tucked and hair on end.
    Larry looked Mason up and down, moving a wad of chewing tobacco from one side of his mouth to the other.
    “We help you with somethin’?”
    Mason pushed aside his jacket so that his badge and gun were both visible.
    “U.S. Marshal.”
    Lincoln immediately pulled Leila around in front of him, jamming his revolver into her ribs. She grimaced, flinching away from it.
    For his part, Larry seemed unshaken.
    “That badge supposed to scare us?”
    “I don’t know. Does it?”
    He spat to one side. “Nope.”
    “Scared or not, I’m going to need for you to release the woman and put your weapons on the ground.”
    All four men shared in a nervous chuckle.
    Larry stepped a little closer, and Bowie let out a growl.
    “Marshal, I think you got it wrong.”
    “How’s that?”
    “Look around you,” he said, puffing out his hairy chest. “Ain’t nobody here bein’ arrested.”
    “I never said anything about arresting you. The truth is, you men are what we in the Service call unreformable.”
    “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    “It means that nothing I say or do is going to wash the filth from your miserable souls.”
    Larry tightened his grip on the rifle.
    “I don’t believe I like your tone.”
    Mason let his hand rest on the grip of the Supergrade.
    “Then you’re really not going to like what comes next.”
    A nervous smile tickled Larry’s lips, and he glanced over at Lincoln.
    “You ever seen anythin’ like this? This lawman’s batshit crazy.”
    “Come on now, Marshal,” coaxed Lincoln, “there’s enough to go ‘round. Whaddya say? We’ll lube her up a bit, an’ you can have what’s left.” He leaned in and licked Leila’s cheek, sliding his tongue all the way from her chin to the corner of her eye. She cringed but didn’t try to pull away. Lincoln smacked his lips. “Honest to God, this one tastes just like butterscotch.”
    “I’m going to start counting,” Mason said in an even tone. “If I get to three and you haven’t dropped your guns, I’m going to kill you. If you raise your weapons, I’m going to kill you. And if you touch the woman again—”
    “Let me guess,” sneered Larry. “You’re gonna kill us?”
    Mason squared himself. “One.”
    Lincoln shifted his feet as he looked over at Larry and then to the other two men. All of them seemed off balance, uncertain about what the hell was happening. It simply didn’t make sense. One man didn’t draw on four.
    Of the entire group, Mason considered Larry to be the least dangerous. While he was the only one holding a rifle, he had to get clear of a 140-pound wolfhound—not something a man of his size was likely to do. Lincoln, on the other hand, was the wildcard. With his revolver stuck into Leila’s ribs, he could kill her before anyone could stop it. But if he shot her, not only would he lose his prize, he would also lose his cover. While Mason couldn’t be certain, he thought there was a good chance that Lincoln would do nothing, choosing instead to watch things unfold behind the safety of a hostage. It was a gamble to be sure, but gunfights were never anything more than a series of gambles.
    “Two.”
    “Marshal, you gotta be a damn fool—”
    “Three.” Mason’s pistol cleared his holster before the word was even out of his mouth.
    Bowie too seemed to understand that negotiations were over, and he lunged toward Larry.
    Mason swung left, squeezed off a round, swung back to the right and squeezed off a second, barely catching sight of the two nameless men as they stumbled back and