Grayden St. Cyr’s eyes went to steel.
“Most of the time I’m just dealing with broken and misguided and wrongheaded people with a chunk of bad boy in them,” he said. “But now and then I have to face real evil. When that happens there is only one thing to do if I want to save innocent lives.”
Six men glared at him.
“Step aside,” their black-leathered and black-bearded leader growled, towering over Grayden. “We’re not here for you today. Walk away, Marshal. Walk away and let us at ‘em.”
Grayden put his right hand on his holster. “Women and children. A crippled man. You think I’m going to walk away and let you slaughter them? That’s not how it goes down in New Mexico.”
“They crossed us.”
“I know about crosses. It’s because of a cross that I’m not going anywhere.”
“Are you crazy? There are six of us.”
“When it comes to evil there’s just one.”
“We’ll cut you to pieces!”
The six men moved like lightning and whipped out their MP5 machine pistols.
Grayden St. Cyr was just a shade faster than lightning. Not much. Just enough . . .