The Believers (The Breeders Series - Book 2) Read Online Free PDF

tree-trunk thighs, arms rippling beneath his T-shirt. We're in trouble.
    Sounds of a scuffle inside. Clay slams into the diner door, skids through it, and lands in a heap. Slowly he staggers up. I tug at my captor’s hands as he tightens his fingers around my throat. Stars flare in my vision.
    “Clay!” I croak, as I pry at thick fingers.
    Clay lurches my way, digging for the gun at his hip. His bandaged hand paws at the revolver until he remembers that he’s wounded. He reaches down with his left, but it’s a clumsy movement. The gun catches on the holster, spins out of his hands, and buries itself in a mess of bricks and trash just outside the diner. His eyes go wide. Fear and shame war on his face for an instant, then he dives through the doorframe for his gun. I turn and kick at my attacker, but my blows do nothing to slack the hands on my throat. I slam my foot into my attacker’s crotch and his hands loosen a little.
    Another man bursts out through the diner door. This guy's huge too, with veiny biceps. His clothes are outlandish and bright: red lace-up sneakers, puffy green pants, and a tank top that reads Vera Beach in neon letters. Who are these people?
    The tank-top man runs after Clay. They square off in the dust outside the diner, Clay making a fist with his good hand and tucking his bandaged one to his chest. Tank-top man smirks, showing his four remaining teeth, and then swings like a prizefighter.
    A fist arcs toward Clay’s jaw. Clay ducks. The swing slices the air an inch from his head, rippling his hair. Tank-top man flies forward, carried by his own momentum. Clay follows, up and around, with three quick jabs in Tank-top man's kidneys. Tank-top man drops to one knee.
    Inside Ethan shrieks.
    I snap my head toward the diner. My attacker, recovering from his kick in the privates, shoves me back. His eyes move to the fight between Tank-top man and Clay. He's momentarily distracted. I think of Ethan, close my eyes, and punch him as hard as I can in the face.
    There's a loud crack. His head snaps back. My hand instantly throbs, but his hands are off my neck. I scramble for his gun, loose in his right hand. We fumble for steel. My hands claw across flesh and metal. He grits his teeth and growls, pushing rancid breath into my face. We play tug of war with his gun. His sombrero slips off and I can see his thin, black beard, a two-inch scar cutting through it. Clumps of hair are missing on his scalp revealing raw, red patches of flesh. Behind the goggles one round eye is cloudy. Something’s wrong with him.
    Still fighting for the gun, he digs his elbow in my chest. A knot of pain spreads across my breastbone, but my fingers find the gun grip. I yank hard, stagger back, and find a gun in my hands.
    I wrap my finger around the trigger. My attacker watches me carefully. I thumb down the safety. There's no fear of death in his eyes. He thinks I'm afraid, that I won't do it. Next to me I hear Clay and Tank-top man begin another round.
    I grit my teeth and pull the trigger.
    A dry click. Nothing. No bullets.
    Jesus Christ.
    He smiles at me, revealing corn-yellow teeth.
    I smile, pull back my arm, and hit him across the face with the gun. His face ripples to the right with the impact. Blood spews from his mouth. His eyes roll back. He lands with a loud thunk on the debris-filled pavement.
    Yes, I think. Then, Clay!
    I whirl around. He's slugging it out with Tank-top man: awful rocking punches that make me cringe. I run up as Clay stumbles on his bad leg and falls over a chunk of broken concrete. He lies on his back, bleeding, panting. His injured hand has bled through the bandaging and his right eye is swelling shut.
    I jump between him and Tank-top man and aim the gun.
    “Riley, no!” Clay yells, rolling over and scrambling for me.
    I lock my elbows and aim the gun at Tank-top man's heart. “Back up, you sonovabitch!”
    He steps forward, smiling. Along with his four teeth and there’s a giant red sore eating