Knives (Ruthless Kings MC #9) - K.L. Savage Page 0,1

quicker. Sweat starts to bead across my neck. I knew I should have taken the other way, but it adds on another twenty minutes. The back road is abandoned, and everyone dumps what they don’t want back here along the sides of the fence that block the road off from someone’s property. Tall weeds stand tall among a few silver trash tins, rusted bikes, and old sewing machines strewn all over the ground. This road is a homeless person’s dream, but horrible things happen here because of the weapons laying around.

This road always has a massive amount of random trash all over it. It’s why everyone in town calls it Miscellaneous Way, because anything and everything can be found. Even bodies.

And I don’t want to be one of them.

If I only had a weapon that could go the distance, that could protect me from a few yards away; then I’d have a chance at escaping these guys.

“Thomas,” Murray singsongs my name, then hits one of the trashcans with the bat he always has in his hand.

The loud clatter startles me. I trip over my own feet, which only draws a big, ugly laugh from the three bullies. I hate this life. Everyone says it gets better, but when? I’m face down in the dirt, rocks are digging into my hands, and I can hear their footsteps getting closer. Nothing about this is better.

I’m a dead man.

I look around for something to protect myself with, but all I see are some rusted knives on the ground next to a busted-up kitchen sink. It’s probably not rust; it’s probably blood that’s been there for far too long. But they are the only thing within reach.

I dig my elbows in the ground and scurry toward the knives hiding in the grass and reach for the closest one. It’s a useless steak knife.

You’ve got to be kidding me. Why couldn’t it be a butcher knife? Something big and scary?

I get to my feet and throw the one in my hand, launching it with a panicked grunt, but the blade comes detached from the black handle, and the threat falls short.

“Oh my god, you’re so stupid. Did you honestly think that would work?” Louis says. He’s shorter than the others, only around my height. I’m sure if he was all alone, he’d turn into a scared dog like me.

Falling to the ground, I gather the last four knives in my hand, ready to use them if I have to. A spider crawls around the blade, then scrambles to my hand. Its legs are light on my skin, a tickle. In a way, I feel like it’s good luck. Unlike most people, I’m not afraid of spiders.

Insects, reptiles, and animals only attack when they feel threatened. Humans attack whoever the hell they want to, when they want to. Or just because they feel like it. It’s why I think out of everything this world has to offer, humans are the most dangerous.

The spider falls off my arm and disappears into the grass, leaving me alone against my enemies.

“What are you going to do with that, Thomas?” Murray asks in a mocking tone, digging the baseball bat into the ground as he takes a step. “Are you going to stab me?”

My hands shake as I slice the knife through the air. “I… I might if you come any c-closer,” I stutter, then lick the sweat off my top lip. The backpack slides down my shoulder into the crease of my elbow, and I drop my hand to let it fall to the ground.

“You think you can kill someone?” Murray tosses his head back and laughs, placing a hand in the middle of his chest. He abruptly stops laughing and taps the aluminum bat against his left foot. “I could kill you,” he sneers at me, then spits. “You are worthless. You take up too much space. You breathe my fucking air. You don’t deserve to breathe my air!” He swings the bat, and I hear the swoosh of it as it barely misses my face.

Stumbling back, I trip over my backpack, and when Murray goes to hit me in the face, I roll away and stab his leg, then yank out so I can still have my weapon.

“Mother fucker!” he screams, adding most of his weight to his other leg. He points the bat at me, red-faced with anger. “You’re a dead man, you hear me? Dead.”

Louis tries to attack me next by taking the bat from