Battle It Out

by Reese Knightley

  It was worth it just to see Kane hyperventilate. Kane had called it Mac’s desertion to the dark side.

  “A fucking marshal?” Kane’s mouth gaped.

  Mac had just laughed. From there, he had gone on to pass every physical and mental test the USMS threw at him, thankful his injury hadn’t damaged his eyesight.

  Two years ago, the US Marshals had welcomed Robert Patrick Mackenzie into the fold, and while Kane had grumbled, Mac knew his friend was happy for him.

  Noah

  He used a piece of gauze to dab at the wound on his wrist. He’d opened it up again. Carl wouldn’t like that.

  “Here, let me see it.” As if on cue, Dr. Carl Denning’s request drifted through the air. The calmness in the veterinarian’s smooth voice came from years of working with animals. Dr. Denning hadn’t been at the ranch very long, but in the two weeks the vet had come back and forth to tend to the livestock, the man had become somewhat of a friend to most of the teenagers there. Noah hated every man he met, but Carl was okay. The man had insisted they call him Carl and drop the title. Noah popped a piece of candy into his mouth. Carl kept a jar on the counter and Noah always stashed a few in his pockets.

  “It doesn’t hurt,” he offered, holding out his arm, knowing it was futile to argue with the somewhat pushy but caring doctor.

  Toenails clicked on the floor and a soft nose nuzzled at his free hand. Noah couldn’t stop the smile when Baby licked at his palm.

  “Humor me.” Carl pushed the leather band away from the wound around Noah’s wrist and doused disinfectant over the raw skin beneath.

  Noah didn’t flinch. It stung, but he’d felt far worse.

  “Hi, Carl.” Jenny’s soft voice carried through the room. The vet glanced past Noah and spotted the girl sitting on one of the counters with her back to the wall, knees drawn tightly to her chest, and a small paperback in her hands. Ratty jeans and a man’s T-shirt hung on her skinny frame. Jenny Myers had come to the ranch over a year ago. She’d been young, starved, and addicted to heroin. The girl was distrustful of most people, but highly protective of those she cared about. And she cared about him. Jenny watched his back as much as he watched hers. So far, the both of them had managed to survive.

  Carl smiled at Jenny. “I didn’t see you there.”

  She shrugged. “I told him that it’s gonna get infected,” she said, waving the book toward Noah’s wrist.

  “Oh, give it a rest, Jenny.” Noah pulled away from Carl’s grasp.

  He crouched, and Baby moved into his arms. The dog had been a stray a year ago; skinny, lost, and angry at the world just like he was. Through kind words and sneaking the dog snacks, Noah had gained Baby’s trust. He buried his face in her fur, and Baby nuzzled and nipped at his hair.

  “Wait, how’d you get that bruise?” The vet frowned and reached for the collar of his too-big T-shirt.

  Noah twisted, avoiding Carl’s outstretched hand, and straightened the shirt’s neck, covering the marks.

  “Carl!” One of Manning’s men came to the door of the large barn. Outside, the sun had risen, and the man’s frame was a halo in the doorway. “You’re needed in building three. One of the Heifers is giving birth.”

  “All right, I’m coming.” Carl looked at Noah and Jenny. “We will talk about this later,” the man said before he exited the office and left the building.

  Jenny closed her book and tucked it away. Slipping from the counter, she approached Noah.

  “I’m leaving here,” he said flatly.

  Jenny’s eyes went wide in her pale face. “How are you going to get out of here?” She clutched the sleeve of his sweatshirt. “You know they only allow you out for school.”

  “Then I’ll do it at school.”

  “Noah,” she whimpered, wrapping her skinny arms around him. He folded her into his arms and held her tight. He wasn’t going to live like this any longer.

  “Maybe someone will save us.” Her voice trembled.

  “Yeah, like that will ever happen,” Noah replied bitterly, blinking his eyes against the sting of threatening tears. He’d tried that route with teachers and the police. Their boss’s pockets went deep in this backwoods Oregon community.

  He released her and she caught his hand, lacing their fingers together. He couldn’t take her with him. Jenny didn’t go to school. Sometimes, she could sneak out of the compound, but most of the time, she stayed there if she wasn’t being used.

  When he got out, he’d tell someone about this place and have them come back for her. He pulled Jenny with him to the back door of the building and stopped. He told Baby to stay. Having the dog in the house would be like signing Baby’s death warrant. Sneaking a look out the door, he saw that the coast looked clear.

  “You never know, maybe somebody will help,” she whispered. But Noah wasn’t going to hold his breath waiting.

  “I’m going to find a way out, even if it kills me.”

  A sound drew his head up and the soap slipped from his fingers. He cried out when Ricky Stevenson came through the shower curtain. Noah raised his arms but was no match for the man’s savage blows. Losing his balance on the slick tub surface, he fell hard and smacked the bottom of the tub.

  “Get the fuck up.” Stevenson yanked him out of the tub.

  Noah could barely stand when the man ordered him to walk. Slamming him naked into a chair, his stepfather put a gun to his head.

  Noah coughed, gasping for breath and blinking the water from his eyes. Rage and terror brought a rasping sound of fury from deep in his throat. A hand brutally fisted into his hair, and the gun bumped his temple.

  Terrance Manning stood across the room, watching and toying with his own gun in a display of power. The message was clear, leave and you die. Manning was massive, in peak physical condition even though he was in his late forties. The man was dressed in his usual military clothing with a crew cut to match, and his cruel gaze never changed. Something cold, dark, and calculating lived inside of the drug lord, and whatever the hell that something was, it scared Noah to death.

  “I want you to be strong, Noah, but I don’t want you to be stupid,” Manning said in perfect German. The man took pleasure in beating toughness into him.

  Stevenson shook his head while the fisted grip forced him to answer.

  “Yes, sir,” Noah said through swollen lips, still blinking water out of his eyes. He refused to respond in the language of his beloved mother.

  “The sooner you know your place, the easier it will be for you. We’ve been going over this for years, Noah,” Manning said. “Trust is earned, and you have yet to earn my trust.”

  “Yes, sir.” This time, the words clawed at his throat and came out raspy and raw.

  Manning studied him, and then said, “Stevenson is my right hand. You, on the other hand, will become my second-in-command. I haven’t wasted all these years teaching you the business for nothing.”

  Noah shuddered, holding back the need to puke. He ran one arm against his dripping nose and it came away red, blood mixed with water.

  Manning stepped closer and Noah froze. Keeping his eyes cast downward, he tried to stop shaking. The man’s gaze burned into him and he dared not move an inch. Long fingers came and pinched his chin, lifting his face upward until he had no choice but to meet the man’s cruel gaze.

  “Try leaving again and I will personally be forced to punish you, like last time,” Manning murmured silkily and trailed one finger over Noah’s bottom lip. “You don’t want that again, do you?”

  “No, sir,” Noah whispered.

  To my fans, as always, these stories are for you.

  Reese spends her time creating stories from the characters rattling around in her head. Her love of reading mystery, action and adventure, and fantasy books led to her love of writing. Reese works as a full-time writer. She loves to hear from her readers. Check out her website at reeseknightleyauth.wixsite.com/mysite. You can reach her on Facebook , Twitter, and Instagram. Her email address is Reeseknig
htleyauthor@gmail.com