The Hollow Men (Book 1): Crave Read Free

raised his size-twelve booted foot and stomped squarely on the bridge of the goliath’s bulbous nose, pulverizing bone and cartilage. No one could play possum with that kind of damage. The bloodied man at his feet didn’t even twitch.
    Tom heard Santa’s panicked breaths getting closer and, wanting to lure the other attacker, shot his arm out and pulled the terrified man around the corner into the bright sunlight.
    When Tom loosened his arm around his neck, Santa seemed surprised to be staring into the eyes of the Korean driver who had warned him to get away.
    With a stern glare, Tom tapped his finger against his lips in a command to be silent. They both listened for the other attacker.
    After a moment, Tom again grabbed the bloodied body of the Neanderthal and dragged him just into view. He stared directly into the shadowy street and barked in an unmistakable Aussie accent, “You’re deep in the cactus, mate. I’ll give you one chance to show yourself before I pull you out and rip you to pieces.” Then, to emphasize his point, he delivered a vicious kick to the inert body at his feet.
    A man with a sweat-beaded, bluish-skinned face emerged from behind a parked van. His snaggletoothed mouth and bulging eyes stood out against his pallid skin. He moved in a skittering, hesitant way as he stepped into the street. He extended a tremulous arm, pointing a large kitchen knife at Tom, and taunted in a hoarse, whispery voice, “I’ve stabbed this into more people than you can count. This is going to be very painful.”
    It did hurt. When the man lunged with his knife, Tom glided out of the way, caught the attacker’s wrist and yanked it across in front of the man’s body. Driving his palm into the back of the now-extended elbow, he broke the radius and ulna.
    The man stared dumbly at his crooked arm while his brain processed what had happened. Shock didn’t stifle the agony of shattered bone and a dislocated elbow. He gave a miserable screech that trailed off into a whimper. He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could utter the first syllable, Tom’s fist blurred through the air, smashing through soft lip-tissue and fracturing teeth.
    Spitting out blood and three of his front teeth, the would-be attacker staggered back into the alleyway and shouted a parting threat. “You are going to pay. I promise you.”
    Tom’s expression was blank, as though he had done nothing more than cross the street, in spite of the abrasions across his calloused knuckles and the broken teeth lying on the ground.
    Santa leaned against the wall, knees wobbling in aftershock. Tom put his hand on Santa’s shoulder to steady him. After Santa nodded, Tom returned to the Neanderthal lying in the street and pressed two fingers to his carotid artery. “He’s a goner.”
    His knees cracked when he stood up. Though he felt no need to justify his actions, he wanted the man in the Santa costume to understand how dangerous the situation was, hoping it might do some good in the future. “I didn’t mean to kill this bugger, but I’m not sorry. He was a killer and I learned the hard way you need to put a dangerous man down quickly, with as much violence as necessary.”
    Santa pointed to the shadowed corner in the alleyway. “There’s a woman down there. I think she’s probably dead.”
    Tom strode toward the woman lying in the cluster of stinking garbage bags. He didn’t need to check for a pulse. If her heart had been beating, the punctures in her chest would still be bleeding. “She’s long gone, I’m afraid.”
    He scooped up the red bucket lying near the girl and turned back to Santa. “You need to bail. I can’t stick around and it’s not safe here. There were three of them, and the third is either still waiting or gone to get more people. Let’s get you to your car. Where is it?”
    Santa kept staring at the dead man on the ground, stunned. Tom sympathized; it was rare for a civilian to witness a violent killing. However,