Chapter 35
Vin roughly tossed his gun to the side and curled his fingers into fists.
He looked down at Jolon for a moment, who clutched at his shoulder in agony.
Vin could see so much more than pain in that face, though.
He could see regret, horror, and fear as the consequences of his outburst settled into his mind.
Vin gave him a nod as if to tell him that all would be well. He didn’t dare continue to look farther, where Adriel worked to try to keep his father alive with no equipment.
He slowly turned his gaze back to Maverick, who looked proud and confident. He was reveling in the chaos he had caused. Maverick’s skill with a weapon was legendary around these parts. He was known as one of the most deadly men in the west, and Vin knew his ability was only part of his reputation.
Maverick enjoyed killing. He loved his work and took to it with a sadistic level of pleasure that terrified the populace.
Vin had encountered people like this before.
They got off on the power they had over life and death.
It was a sick god complex that led to feelings of invincibility.
Vin had no doubt that had Maverick now been able to satisfy those urges through his work for Chainz, he would have become a highly proficient serial killer.
People like that just needed to kill, and the only way to stop them was to put them down.
Vin crouched and locked eyes with the smirking mercenary, starting to circle him threateningly. Vin was in a kill-or-be-killed mode now, and he was not going to let this smirking psychopath be the one to take him down.
He waited for Maverick to make the first move, but the killer continued to just watch him, matching him step for step, never changing his mocking expression as though he hadn’t a care in the world.
He was highly confident in his abilities; that much was certain.
Vin had never felt more dismissed by an opponent before, and it was starting to throw him off his game.
He realized this was probably Maverick’s aim all along. He was playing a mind game with him, trying to unnerve him and take him off balance. It was either that…or Maverick was an even better hand-to-hand combatant than the rumors would lead one to believe.
Deciding to put his theory to the test, Vin rushed in, aiming a hooking right-handed punch at Maverick’s head.
The slim mercenary reached out with intense speed, locking his arm around Vin’s and trapping it against his side.
With lightning speed, he then aimed a punch directly into Vin’s shoulder joint.
As Vin cried out in pain, Maverick drove the point of his elbow into Vin’s throat and let go of his arm.
Vin stumbled back, gasping for air, and before he could regain his balance, Maverick landed a solid kick to the chest that sent him falling into the dirt.
The Chain Gang members all laughed in response as Vin rolled through the dirt in an attempt to create some distance and regroup.
He was good. Really, really good.
Maverick was slim and quick. He knew he couldn’t match strength with Vin, so he had used the momentum and a powerful grip to entrap him and then strike out with three precise blows, all of which landed with crushing impact.
As Vin rose to his knees, he brought his hands up in a defensive position to ward off Maverick’s inevitable counterattack. However, none came. Maverick simply stood across from him, tall and straight as an arrow, looking down the bridge of his long, crooked nose with a confident smile.
He was sending a message to Vin, letting him know that he was just toying with him now, that he could end this fight whenever and however he saw fit.
This wasn’t a bluff, and Vin knew it now.
He began to worry about the outcome of this encounter as he raised his fists once more and got back to his feet.
Vin didn’t bother to dance around this time.
He simply ran in with a powerful punch at the face, meant to cave in Maverick’s head and end the battle with a single blow.
However, Maverick seemed to expect this and ducked nimbly under the haymaker.
He drove his own fist into Vin’s untensed stomach, driving the air from his lungs and doubling him over.
Then, while Vin was still trying to catch his breath, Maverick caught him under the chin with an upward swinging elbow.
Vin popped up with the cracking momentum of the strike, and Maverick dropped out of sight, expertly sweeping Vin’s legs out from under him.
He crumpled to the ground in a heap and managed to roll out of the way as the sole of Maverick’s boot came rocketing down at his head with the finality of a meteorite.
Vin just barely avoided death at that moment and rolled away quickly to regain his footing.
Maverick gave him a long, slow whistle as if to remark on how close the battle had come to ending.
Vin started to suspect that Maverick had purposely allowed him to skirt away as their game of cat and mouse continued.
“Not bad,” Maverick remarked, standing back up and waiting for Vin to brush himself off. “Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t good, either. But it wasn’t bad.”
Vin growled and spat a wad of blood from a cut inside his mouth, his tongue tingling with the metallic taste of it. His hat had fallen from his head as he hit the ground, and he now felt the beating rays of the desert sun on the tip of his head.
“Ready to continue?” Maverick asked mockingly.
Vin looked over at the gathered Natives for a fraction of a second, just enough to take in their collective anxiety over this ordeal. The Chain Gang continued to laugh amongst themselves, with some sounding as though they were even placing bets on the encounter.
Based on the scant bits of conversation Vin was able to pick up, it didn’t sound as though they were betting on who would win. Rather, they were taking bets on how much longer it would take for Maverick to finish the bounty hunter off.
“Come on,” Vin said to Maverick, urging the killer to get on with it. Maverick smiled once more and sprinted at Vin, crouched as he moved like some kind of ninja.
Vin swung a powerful fist at Maverick’s head again, but once more, he nimbly dodged down and struck out at Vin’s stomach again with three rapid jabs.
Vin was ready to absorb them this time and tightened his abdomen just in time. He wondered in that brief second whether Maverick was arrogant enough to try the same move twice. He was willing to bet that he was.
Maverick swung up for Vin’s chin, but this time, he was ready for him. Vin bent his torso back, and Maverick hit nothing but air as he straightened up to a standing position, his face unprotected and right within striking range.
Vin lashed out with a huge meaty fist and felt the satisfying sensation of crumbling cartilage as his knuckles smashed into Maverick’s face like a runaway truck. He fell back onto his knees, blood spraying everywhere as the laughter and raucous cheering of the Chain Gang suddenly died.
Vin rushed in and kicked Maverick hard in the chest, sending him sprawling back and rolling through the dirt. But Vin wasn’t as arrogant as Maverick. He wasn’t trying to prove some kind of point with this fight or have fun with it. He was in this fight to win it.
He was immediately lashing out at Maverick with a series of kicks to the head and torso. He was out for blood now and could sense that victory was within reach.
Maverick was covering up as best he could, fending off the raining blows with upraised arms. At one point, he managed to hook an arm around Vin’s leg, trapping it against his side, but Vin then switched his tactics and used his trapped leg to push Maverick in closer so he could connect with a powerful punch against the jaw.
The smaller man instantly let go of the trapped leg and tried to roll away, but Vin was on him again instantly.
Vin dove onto Maverick’s rolling body, taking a position atop him, and started to rain blows down on him with furious rage.
He hammered at him for Jolon and for Uncle and all of the people this monster had killed in the past.
But Maverick still had a trick up his sleeve. Literally.
While covering up his face with both arms, Maverick retrieved a small knife from the inside of his coat sleeve. Vin didn’t see the glinting silver until it was nearly too late. The blade sliced into his chest as he tried to toss himself back and away.
He landed awkwardly on his hip, and Maverick pounced like a jungle cat, tackling Vin to the ground and trying to drive the knife into his throat. Vin grabbed Maverick with both hands by the wrists as the killer put all of his weight behind the struggle.
While Vin was physically stronger than Maverick, the Chain Gang member had the superior position. On top of that, he started pushing his knee into Vin’s hip, trying to distract him with pain. Vin cried out in agony as the blade inched ever closer to his jugular vein.
Maverick was no longer smiling, no longer confident or taunting.
He had just gotten the thrashing of his life, and his bloodied face was contorted into a snarl of feral rage and determination.
“Die, you bitch,” Maverick hissed through clenched teeth, his every frenzied exhalation spraying Vin with a grotesque mix of spit and blood.
Just then, an anguished wail from Adriel rose up around them. He sounded utterly distraught and defeated and sobbed with what was unmistakably grief.
Uncle was gone. This kind man was dead, and this monster had been the one to do it.
Hate and rage swelled up within Vin’s chest, and it gave him the boost of strength he needed. He screamed in anger and pushed up with the world-ending power of his fury. Maverick fell back and off to the side as both he and Vin kept their conjoined grip on the knife.
He rolled over onto his opponent, and before Maverick could do anything, he drove the knife hard down into his chest.
Maverick didn’t scream. He didn’t cry or shout or beg for his life. He only froze in place, looking more confused than anything. It was as if this were the last thing he had ever believed to be possible.
Vin stared down into the killer’s eyes, watching as the light of consciousness left him. Soon all that was left of Maverick, the most notorious contract killer in the west, was a drooling, bleeding, barely recognizable corpse gazing up into the sky with shock .
Vin stood slowly off of the body to see the Chain Gang gaping at him.
Sean stood at the front, nostrils flared with anger and a little bit of fear.
Was it fear over what Vin was going to do to him?
Or fear over what was going to happen to him once he returned to the ranch and reported back to Chainz?
Not only had Sean failed to kill Vin when that had been one of the conditions of his agreement with the crime lord, but because of that failure, Chainz had now lost one of his most valued lieutenants.
Vin and Sean locked eyes as Vin spat blood from his lips.
He wasn’t sure whether most of the blood that covered his face and torso had come from him or from Maverick, and right now, it didn’t matter.
All he cared about was looking Sean dead in the eye and making a promise to him through that white-hot death stare.
Sean seemed to be weighing his options, and Vin could tell he was wrestling with a decision.
Was he going to try to take Vin on himself?
It wouldn’t be the worst plan in the world, Vin realized.
The fight with Maverick had taken a lot out of him, and even fully rested, he would have a hard time facing Sean one on one.
But he also knew how Sean thought, and he had underestimated Vin many times already, with disastrous results. It was probable that he was wary of challenging Vin due to his former friend’s seemingly unexplainable ability to cheat death time and time again.
“Take him out,” Sean growled, seemingly content to let the Chain Gang do his dirty work for him.
The ten men who stood behind him started to draw their guns, but a sound from behind Vin took all of their attention.
The Natives had rushed forward, over three dozen strong, with most of them pulling out pistols and hunting rifles, leveling them at Sean and the Chain Gang.
The biker gang froze in place, realizing they were vastly outnumbered.
This had been meant to show a moment of strength before a docile and peaceful people.
This operation wasn’t supposed to lead to open combat, and they were woefully unprepared to face the full might of the reservation, especially now that they held the contempt of the entire community after the death of Uncle.
Vin wondered if the Natives would open fire, but he realized that was unlikely to happen unless they were provoked. He wasn’t going to do anything to urge the Chain Gang to cause such provocation.
“Get the hell outta here, Sean,” Vin spat, glaring at his former friend through the slits of his eyes.
“Tell your boss this place is off-limits. Tell him that I’m coming for him, and I’m not gonna stop until he’s six feet under the ranch.
And you tell my wife and son that I’m coming home to get them outta there. ”
Sean’s face was a frozen mixture of horror and utter rage as he glared at Vin across an invisible battle line. No more words were needed between the two of them, and no more were offered.
“Back to base,” Sean called out to his men, and they all begrudgingly turned and started to walk away, back toward their horses. Sean remained a moment longer, seemingly unable to break the tense stare down with Vin.
But Vin had more important matters to see to and broke eye contact with Sean to turn and run up to Jolon, who crouched with Adriel over Uncle’s body.
Jolon’s face was contorted in grief and horror as he looked down at the body of the old man who had saved his life. “No,” Jolon said, pressing his palm into the ghastly wound in his shoulder while tears streamed down his face. “No, please, no.”
“I’m sorry,” Vin said, his voice a gruff whisper amidst the commotion of the Chain Gang and Sean leaving. “But this ain’t over. And we ain’t done yet.”