Battle Lines (The Survivalist Book 5) by Arthur Bradley Read Free Book Online

little embarrassed. Who was to say that his secrets were any greater than hers?
    “I’m looking for a man named Lenny Bruce. He was the head of a militia group known as Fresh Start. I don’t suppose you happen to know him?”
    “No, but I know of him. He was very powerful in this area. I was heading into Lexington with hopes of learning more about him when the bomb hit.”
    “Good thing you weren’t a mile or two closer to the city.”
    “That’s very true. The blast picked up my car and tossed it into a ditch. If I’d been closer…” She closed her eyes for a moment. “Well, I suppose we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
    “Is that how you hurt your hand?”
    She looked down at the bloody bandage.
    “I put it right through the windshield.”
    “Would you like me to take a look at it?”
    Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t know. Are you a doctor?”
    “No, but I’ve seen my share of injuries. If it’s not too serious, I can probably help.”
    She studied him. “Why?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “I mean why would you help me? You’re not a marshal anymore. You don’t have to do anything for anyone.”
    Mason stepped a little closer.
    “Consider it my returning a favor.”
    “What favor?”
    “You fed my dog.” He reached down and gave Bowie a quick pat.
    “All right,” she said with a playful smile. “That sounds fair.” She raised her hand, and he carefully unwrapped the bandage. The gash stretched across her palm, and meat bulged out through the open skin. Her pointer and index fingers were also purple from having been broken at the proximal interphalangeal joints.
    “We need to wash this out to remove any glass that might still be in the wound.”
    “At the moment, I don’t have any water to spare.”
    “It’s all right. I have some.”
    She looked into his eyes but said nothing.
    “After that,” he continued, “I should probably stitch it up.”
    “Okay.”
    “And—”
    “There’s an and ?”
    “Your fingers are broken. I’ll need to straighten and tape them.”
    She exhaled heavily. “Anything else?”
    “I don’t have any anesthesia.”
    She smiled. “Of course you don’t.”
    “You’ll be all right,” he said, grinning. “Let me get—”
    Mason was interrupted by the sound of heavy feet stomping down carpeted stairs. He spun, his hand instinctively going for his Supergrade. Bowie jerked upright, baring his teeth as three men stumbled out through the station’s front door, pistols in hand. All three were badly burned and squinting in the morning sunlight.
    “Who’s out here?” Red Man shouted, waving his pistol in their direction.
    The other two men split left and right, blindly feeling their way along the front of the porch. Bowie barked and folded his ears back. Red Man turned and fired, the bullet puffing up dirt in front of the dog’s feet.
    “Stop!” Mason shouted, instinctively raising his hands to ward them off.
    All three swung their pistols in his direction. The man on the right immediately squeezed off a round, but the shot went wide, whistling through the trees. Red Man leaned forward, squinting as he tried to line up for a shot at Bowie.
    Mason drew the Supergrade and shot Red Man in the chest, a quick tap-tap . The man stumbled back, a bloody wet spot forming in the center of his shirt. As he started to fall, Mason swung left and then right, dropping the other two men. The time from his first shot to his last was less than one second.
    Bowie started toward the fallen men, back hunched and teeth bared.
    “Bowie!”
    The dog stopped and glanced back at Mason.
    “It’s over, boy,” he said, shaking his head.
    Bowie studied the men for a moment longer and then returned to stand beside his master.
    Mason turned to Leila. She was standing perfectly still, her hand resting on the pommel of her knife.
    “You okay?”
    She nodded but said nothing.
    “Are you sure?”
    She swallowed. “I’m okay.” She looked down at the pistol hanging at his