34. 34
34
Seventeen minutes after the call, Will slammed his truck into park in front of Carla’s home. Barrett followed close behind in his obsidianJeep, crunching to a stop in a pile of snow right behindhim. Both menleaped out of their vehicles, Will with a solemn face, Barrettwith the crazed giddiness of a schoolbully about to pound a weakling.
Barrett bounced lightly on his feet, tennis shoes compacting the snow up the sidewalk. Will walked slowly, fists balled by his sides.
“No ass-kicking,” Will warned. “I’mnot sending Starla into the fuckin’ system because I went to jail over this guy.”
“Speak for yourself. I have no obligations. Some light bitch slappingmight be in order.”
“That’s still assault.”
“Not if I gethim to hit me first .”
“What if he has a gun?”
“This is Wyoming .” Barrett laughed.“Of course, he has a gun. Probably got a bunch of ‘em. That doesn’t mean he’s gonna use it.Plus, I brought my own.” He grabbed both coat-covered biceps, one at a time. “And these guns are rated ‘E for everyone.’Mr. O’Neil, meet Smith…and Wesson.”
“Cooler heads prevail here.” Will looked at the wooden front door with a mosaic glass window, one he’d walked through more than twenty times already. Shapes inside shifted, darting left and right.
He turned back to Barrett, “You remember how we got you into Mason’s partythat one time?”
A grin spread acrossBarrett’s face. “The good old E.W.?”
Will nodded.
SMASH!
Both of their attention snapped to the door as theglass mosaic exploded outwardin a spray of colored glass. An object missed their faces narrowly, hurtling out into the cold air. Will and Barrett watched the full jar of pickles explode like a green firework on the snowy walkway behind them. The men hunched down, careful to avoid any other thrown projectiles.
Barrett crouched beneath the hole in the door. “Sir? Mr. O’Neil? Someone is breaking into your car!” His powerful voice bellowed through the neighborhood .
“What?!” A man’svoice shoutedfrom inside, rising above Carla’s muffled screams. “Goddammit—”
As the man approached, Will wrenched the doorknob. He and Barrett slammed their body weight against itin unison, like battering rams. The combined force knocked the abusive prickinside to the tile floor.
Will and Barrett stormed inside.Carla screamed, her children cowering behind her in fear in the hallway, busted glass laid at their feet. Carla’s face was bruised and soaked with tears, lip busted. One of her eyes was already starting to swell shut, and a red handprint graced her throat. Her left arm hung at an odd angle by her side. Will had no doubt that if left alone, the man would have killed her.
Carla’s cries of relief were gut-wrenching when she saw the men.
Will recognized the man’s face from the pictures he’d dusted around the house.
Frank O’Neil.
What a piece of shit.
Frank groaned onthe floor, trying his damnedest to stand. Will dove, grabbing Frank’s legs and latching them together with his arms.
“Go upper!” Will shouted.
Barrettwas all too happy to oblige, pinning Frank’s arms to the floor with his kneesand sinking his full weight down.
Frank screamed.
Will looked back.“Carla, you and the kids get in either of the vehiclesoutside. Hurry!”
“You’re not fucking going anywhere ,” Frank yowled, trying to wrestlehis limbs free from the men. “Your fat ass is worthless without me, and you know it! You’vegot nowhere to go! You’re fucking nothing !”
“Shut up!” Barrett slapped the back of the man’s head so hard that his face bounced off the tile.
Carla’sbattered face flashedred with anger. “You… will never… see us… again, ”she growled.
Barrett turned his face up toward Carla with a sly grin, “You want a free shot? I’ll hold him down for you.”
She shook her head. “No.” Carla spit on the back of Frank’s head, and he thrashed in anger.
Carla and the kids made their way out of the busted front door. They scuttled through the snow and piled in Will’s truck.
Frank tugged his arm free and swung wild, landinga punch right across Barrett’s jaw. Barrett reeled back, grimacing inpain, ears ringing.
“Barrett, you okay?” Will asked, whipping Frank’s arm back at a wrong angle until the man cried out.
“You done fucked up throwin’the first punch.” Barrett laughed. “Now it’s my turn.” He looked at Will. “Let him go. Get to the truck. Get the wife and kids out of here. I’ll handle him .”
“I’m not just going to leave .”
Barrett laughed casually as if they weren’t all in the middle of a shit-storm. “Go. I got this all day.”
Will thought for a moment, debating his options, and then fled fast back to the truck. Barrett released Frank’s hands, and the second the abuser got to his feet, Barrett plowed his fist into the man’s nose with a satisfying crunch. Frank wailed through the blood, clutching his face.
“Yeah, you may be onto something here. It is fun hitting little bitches , Frankie!”
Barrett raised a booted foot and kicked the living shit out of Frank. The older man tumbled back, skidding across the glass on the floor toward the kitchen.
Barrett lumbered over to Frank as the man tried to push himself up out of the blood-smeared debris. Barrett slammed a boot against his back, shoved Frank’s chest to the floor, and yanked his wallet out of the man’s slacks. He slapped the back of Frank’s balding head with it.
“ Asshole tax .”
Not wasting any time, Barrett waved, and Will stopped the truck in the middle of the street. Barrett clomped over to it. Carla rolled down the window.
“Here. Y’all are married, right?”
Carla nodded solemnly, tears streaming.
“Good. Community property. ” Barrett walked back toward his Jeep and waved cheerfully.
Will sped off, not stopping until Carla and the kids were somewhere safe.