Chapter 21

Twenty-One

B lake

No.

Nobody is going to die tonight. Least of all me. I’m Blake Fucking Pritchard, the most feared and hated bartender in town. And I’m about to fuck people up.

I let go with a massive kick to the chest of the dude closest to me. Not expecting it, he stumbles backward and loses his balance. He’s on his ass long enough for me to fight off his partner one-on-one. He’s ready to fight off a kick from me, but he’s not expecting me to bear down on him head first and take him out at the knees. The brawl continues until the two dudes are groaning on the ground, whimpering like a couple of little bitches.

The duct tape still biting into my wrists, I manage to shimmy one leg and then the other through my arms so that my wrists are now in front of me.

I raise my arms above my head, and then forcefully bring my bound hands down against my middle, the sudden movement spreads my elbows across my ribcage and makes the tape start to give way. I have to do it a number of times, but it works to break the tape and free my hands.

Bloodied and tired and also very confused, I take the keys to the truck and drive like hell.