Read Online Surge by Katelin;katie LaMontagne - Free Book Online

turn tail and save his own skin from the twenty remaining bastards who are reaching out with hungry arms, and are currently pawing at him like he’s a performer at a sold out concert. But not this crazy bastard. Instead, he pulls out a freaking machete and jumps into the fray. Arms and legs are flying, and heads literally roll, while the machete blurs in rapid arcs. If a wheezer latches on to his arm or back, he doesn’t panic. Instead the guy buries a knife into the offender’s eye, or head-butts the fucker off. This dude’s a wheezer killing machine.
    John and I are too stunned to realize that the alarm is now off, since we’ve been distracted watching the action, but we notice it when Motorcycle Man finishes off the last wheezer with a strike to the center of its head, splitting it open like a nasty version of piñata. Finding that mobility is in fact a possibility, John and I climb over the tipped shelving. We begin picking our way through the destruction to thank our savior, who is now kicking the last wheezer, which is more than dead already.
    A few steps away we hear a muffled, “Asshole.” Followed by another kick. “Break my mother flipping nail, why don’t you?” The speed of the kicks picks up double time, while John and I exchange raised eyebrows. Obviously, the guy’s a metro, but who the fuck cares when he has mad skills? “I just fixed them you cocksucking, mother fucking, two ball bitch!” John clears his throat, fighting off a laugh, but the dude must’ve heard it because he spins away from the corpse to face us.
    “Don’t think I forgot about you two fucking geniuses!”
    The masked crusader shouts and points a leather-covered finger in our direction. John puts on his placating hat and holds up his hands, which fall along with our jaws when the helmet comes off. Revealed is the most gorgeous woman I’ve yet to see, with her black hair pulled back in a sweaty braid, exquisitely symmetrical feminine bone structure, a tiny perfect nose, full red lips pursed in anger; which is really a shame since they have better uses that have Junior downstairs rising to attention, and large dove grey eyes that could mesmerize a room if they weren’t shooting daggers, as they are right now. And she’s pint sized. I want to stick the mini Tomb Raider in my pocket, take her home and play doctor.
    “I think it would be great idea to be eaten today,” she mocks in a poor imitation of a male voice. “What do you think, Fred?”
    “Actually, the name’s John,” the fucker beside me corrects in a husky tone, revealing his arousal. “This ugly bastard is Jared, and you are?” He’s practically purring, and I’m waiting for him to drop on all fours and go wind around her ankles, begging for a scratch.
    “The name’s kiss my ass,” she snaps in answer.
    “It would be my pleasure,” John quips with his dazzling smile. Just as he steps forward to do just that, she reaches inside her leather jacket. He doesn’t make it more than a foot in her direction before she has a gun aimed at his chest.
    “G-go on and try it mother fucker,” she dares, her tone steeled. “One more step, and you’ll join the bodies at your feet.” Shooting me a look that promises pain, she continues. “That goes for you too. Get your shit and be gone in ten seconds, or you lose your balls to my little friend.”
    Tilting her head back to indicate her huge fucking machete that’s now strapped on her back, John covers his junk and steps back. The guy downstairs winces at the warning, and while the head that wasn’t threatened bodily harm is positive that she could, and most certainly would, relieve us of our male parts if necessary; I can see that she’s nervous. Picking up on the physical cues in the slight shaking of her hands holding the gun, eyes dilated and the sweat beaded on her forehead, I try a different tactic. Meeting her gaze, I raise my hands to show that I’m not going to hurt her.
    “We don’t want any