Last Stand (The Survivalist Book 7) Read Free Page A

fell, blood oozing from dime-sized holes in their sternums. He swung back and fired a third round, catching Larry in the throat a split second before Bowie tackled him to the ground. Gurgled screams filled the air as the man attempted to fend off the dog while choking on his own blood.
    Mason sidestepped and let his pistol settle on Lincoln. The man had ducked behind Leila, one arm going across her throat while the other reached around to press the revolver against her chest.



“Jeezus, Marshal!” he wheezed.
    Mason stood motionless, sizing up the situation. There was no clean shot.
    Leila stared into his eyes, searching for something, perhaps a quick nod indicating that she should try to create an opening. He offered none. If she moved, Lincoln would likely panic and shoot her.
    For a few seconds, neither man moved as they listened to Larry’s choked cries begin to fade.
    “Drop your gun,” commanded Lincoln. “Do it now!”
    Mason met the man’s stare. “No.”
    “I’ll shoot her. I will.”
    “I believe you.”
    That seemed to confuse him. “You gonna let me shoot her?”
    “I can’t see that I have much choice. You’ll shoot her, and then I’ll shoot you.”
    “She’s still gonna be dead.”
    Mason nodded. “More than likely, yes.”
    “You gonna watch her die? Just like that?”
    “No. I’m going to watch you die. Just… like… that.” He said the last three words slowly, drawing them out to make his point.
    Lincoln moved his fingers around, trying to dry the sweat forming on his hands.
    “This is bullshit. You know that, right?”
    “No argument there.”
    Bowie had finished with Larry and was turning toward Lincoln, a deep grumbling growing in his chest.
    “Easy, boy,” said Mason.
    Lincoln looked toward a mobile home to his left.
    “She and I are goin’ in there, and you best not try an’ stop us.”
    He pulled Leila sideways and took a small step. When he did, Mason shifted the Supergrade and shot him in the foot. The man screamed and immediately ducked back behind her, hopping up and down.
    “You bastard! You shot my damn foot off!”
    “And I will continue to shoot you until you let the woman go.”
    “I’ll kill her!” he said, jamming the pistol against her ribcage.
    Leila bit her lip to keep from crying out.
    “We’ve been through that already.” Mason kept his voice even and calm, hoping that it would keep the man from doing something rash.
    They stood facing one another for a long minute, neither of them sure what to do next.
    Lincoln finally bent forward and wiped his brow on the back of her shirt.
    “Okay, so how we gonna get past this?”
    “Simple. Toss the pistol away and drop to your knees.”
    “I do that, and you’ll shoot me sure as shit.”
    “Why would I do that?”
    “Because you’re mean. That’s why.”
    Mason chuckled. “My father’s mean. I’m determined. Believe me, there’s a difference.”
    “I got your word you ain’t gonna shoot me?”
    “As long as you behave.”
    Lincoln glanced down at the three fallen men, perhaps picturing himself lying beside them, bleeding out. After a moment, he reluctantly held the revolver out to one side with the gun dangling from his fingers by the trigger guard.
    “There. Happy?”
    “Toss it away.”
    He lobbed the pistol into a plot of tall grass.
    “Now, let the girl go.”
    Lincoln slowly released his grip.
    Leila jerked away and rushed toward Mason. As she did, he saw Lincoln’s hand slip behind his back. Mason leaned left, searching for a clean shot, but Leila was directly in his line of fire. Desperate to create a gap, he dove sideways with the Supergrade extended in both hands like a wide receiver trying to catch a football. As soon as the muzzle cleared Leila, he rapid-fired the remainder of the magazine, four shots issued so quickly that they sounded like a submachine gun. Only one of the four hit Lincoln, but it caught him in the ocular window, perfectly centered between his eyes. The