The Relic Runner Origin Story Box Set by Ernest Dempsey (non fiction books to read TXT) 📕

that doesn't happen. Will be easier for all of us if you're dead."

Her head whipped around again at the new threat and she met his eyes. "Tripp, please. Don't. Don't."

"Oh, I'm still going to have my fun with you. All of us will. Right, boys?" He cast the words over her shoulder.

The other two snickered amid a series of oh, yeahs.

John opened the back of the SUV and stepped back into view.

"Take her around to the back," Tripp said, noting the scene of the crime was ready.

"Hey!" a new voice cut in.

Tripp spun around and saw the drunk from before. The man was around six feet tall, give or take. He staggered through the explorer's headlight beams in a serpentine fashion, zigzagging his way across the parking lot.

"Can you morons keep it down over there?" the man slurred. "I'm trying to get some sleep."

He stopped fifteen feet away, his body tilting to the left. Then the man felt his balance waning and over corrected, suddenly shifting to the right in a dramatic show of intoxication.

"This is none of your concern, stranger," Tripp said. The pain in his groin had finally subsided, eased by the work of gravity. "Go on back to your truck and sleep it off."

"That's what I'm sayin'," the stranger said, throwing his hands up in the air as if a long-made point was finally understood. "I musta had ten or fourteen beers and you are in no condition to drive me home."

Tripp's eyebrows lowered at the man's nonsensical comment. He'd had a few drinks, but he was far from blown out the way this guy was.

"Look, stranger," Tripp continued, "we don't want any trouble. So, just stumble back over to your vehicle and close your eyes. We'll be leaving here soon enough."

Dak's upper body wobbled in orbit over his waist. He shuffled forward, closing the gap between him and Tripp by another six feet before stopping and nearly tipping over onto his face.

"Trouble? Am I in trouble? You guys aren't cops, are you?" The slurred words continued, accentuated with peaks and valleys in pitch that continued to drive home the notion he was inebriated beyond comprehension.

Tripp snorted and looked back at Steve, who continued to hold the struggling woman.

"Yeah, that's it, buddy. We're cops. And this woman is under arrest."

"They're not cops!" Tanya shouted. "My husband is a county deputy. Please, sir, call the police. Don't let them do this!"

Dak stumbled another five feet forward, teetering on the edge of falling flat on his face or tipping over backward.

He leaned forward, eyelids narrowed to slits as he peered into Tripp's face. "Listen, occifer," he spat, body still wavering. "I need to report a crime."

Tripp almost couldn't keep himself from laughing, briefly forgetting about his wicked intentions.

"Tell you what," Tripp offered, "go back over to your vehicle and rest for a bit. When we're done with her, I'll make sure to take care of you."

"You promise?" Dak blathered.

"Definitely. We'll handle it as soon as we're done with her."

Dak rocked back onto his heels. He hiccupped once and nodded. "All right, then. Just hurry up, would you? I really need to get some sleep."

Tripp nodded. "Yeah, you go back over there to your truck and do that. We'll wake you up when we're ready to hear your complaint."

"No!" Tanya yelled. "Don't listen to him!"

Steve clamped his left hand over her mouth, wrapping his arm around her torso with the right and squeezing hard. She tried to scream, but the muted sounds didn't go far.

Dak started to turn around, then paused. He scuffed his feet forward again, closing the distance between him and Tripp to less than five feet. "Hey. Isn't that the waitress from the bar?"

Tripp took a threatening step toward Dak, irritation brimming in his eyes. His face tensed with anger. "Listen, stranger. Don't make me ask you again. You need to go back to your vehicle and mind your business. We'll take care of your problem as soon as we're done with her."

The sheriff's son didn't realize the danger. He'd stepped well within striking distance, assuming that this drunkard was no threat.

"What are y'all going to do with her?" Dak asked. He already knew the answer. He'd seen their plan unfolding, heard what they said. They were going to use her for their own perverted needs and then kill her. In his eyes, that meant their lives were forfeit.

He'd hoped Tanya's husband would show up, or that the bartender or even Merrick would return to collect something they'd forgotten. Not that either of them would be of use. Since he'd been out here, though, Dak hadn't seen a single car go by.

Sure, he could beat these guys up, hope to teach them a lesson. But they wouldn't learn. Men like this would simply find another target, another woman, or even the same one at a later time. The sheriff wouldn't help with an investigation if charges were pressed. She would be shamed as a liar, and her husband would look even weaker in her eyes.

Her world would crumble and these scumbags would get to keep on keeping on as if nothing had ever happened. And Tyler would help with the coverup.

Dak had wanted to be more calculated in drawing out his old Delta Force teammate. Those fanciful plans, however, were tossed by the wayside.

"You going to have a little fun with her before you arrest her?" Dak asked, his words still slurred, but only slightly.

"I told you to mind your business, stranger. Don't make me use force."

Dak looked around, as if searching the parking lot for something. "You know," he said. "I don't see your patrol car around here? You three in unmarked vehicles or something? Is that explorer an undercover thing?"

Tripp had heard enough. He took one last step toward Dak. Menace flamed in his eyes. "I'm telling you for the last time, stranger. Go back to your vehicle. This is none of your concern."

Dak's spine stiffened. The wobble vanished and his legs steadied. The distant, glazed look in