Unleashed

  UNLEASHED

  Scott Hildreth

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Scott Hildreth lives in Wichita, Kansas.

  He is real, and he writes about what he believes to be real..

  DEDICATION

  This book is dedicated to every person that has taken on the legal system in a head-on battle. It’s a tough battle, but oh so worth it.

  THE ERIK EAD SERIES

  BABY GIRL

  BABY GIRL BOOK II

  BABY GIRL BOOK III

  OTHER BOOKS BY SCOTT HILDRETH

  BROKEN PEOPLE

  THE ALPHA-BET

  UNDEFEATED

  UNSTOPPABLE

  UNLEASHED

  TO THE DEPTHS OF HELL

  Copyright

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead, are coincidental.

  Copyright © 2014 by Scott Hildreth

  All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the author or publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use the material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the author at [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  PROLOGUE

  I barely got the Chevelle stopped and the parking brake set before I opened the car door and started running up the driveway toward the front door of the house. As I stepped off of the sidewalk and onto the first step that led to the porch, Tucker opened the door.

  “You Tucker?” I growled as I stepped onto the second step.

  As soon as the door was opened all the way, I realized he had a gun in his hand. Although I had never personally met him, he had obviously heard about me and my car from Katie. I must admit there weren’t too many two hundred and fifty pound tattooed bald guys driving Classic Chevelle’s in Austin.

  “Yeah, you must be Ritt. Get off my porch and don’t ever come back,” he smiled as he motioned toward me with the gun.

  “Name’s Mike Ripton, prick. I’m Katie’s brother. Put down the gun. I’m taking you to the police station, dead or alive, you get to pick which one,” I said as I started up the steps slowly.

  I focused on the gun, and recognized it as a Glock. The size of the barrel led me to believe that it was a .45 caliber. With his elbow bent and his forearm parallel to the ground, he held the gun at waist height.

  Perfect, a Glock. No safety.

  Just point and shoot.

  Fuck.

  “You must be one dumb son-of-a-bitch. Look, I’ve got the gun, I make the rules. Now get off my fucking porch,” he looked nervous as I cautiously began to step across the porch.

  Gun or not, the more I looked at him the angrier I became. The thought of what he did to my little sister was more than I could try to make sense of - innocent little Katie Bug, who never hurt a fly, raped by this gun toting pussy. As I stepped toward him, I clenched my fists at my side.

  “You rape my sister?” I grunted as I took another step toward him.

  “Well, being as I’m gonna shoot you in about two seconds, I’ll sure tell ya,” he said as he continued to point the pistol at my mid-section.

  I took another step and slowly began to raise my fists to chest height. I needed to hear him say it. Hear him admit it. As I took the last step, he began raising the pistol until it was level with my head.

  “She was a tight little bitch. Nice tight little pussy. Yeah, I raped her,” he chuckled, the pistol now eighteen inches from my forehead.

  “As soon as he said Yeah, I swung my right fist toward his right forearm. Probably not the best choice of what to do in this situation, but it was my most powerful punch. I knew I needed to hit his arm so hard he would drop the pistol. As my hand made contact with his arm, that’s exactly what he did.

  His eyes widened as the pistol slid across the wooden floor. I stepped into the house, pushing him backward and grabbing his neck with my left hand at the same time. As he started to explain and attempt to reason, I pushed the door closed with my right hand.

  “She’ll never prove it in court. It’s her word against mine. You’re in my house, asshole. You’re going to jail for breaking and entering,” he bellowed.

  I pulled his body into mine with my left hand and shifted my body until I was behind him. As I wrapped my right arm around his neck, I placed him in a choke hold.

  “They won’t even charge me with a crime. You know how many girls claim rape? It’s happened to me three times, but never made it to trial once,” he blubbered.

  I stood behind him and attempted to understand what he was saying. I was full of rage, and everything had happened so fast. He’d been charged with rape three times? But never made it to court? The women, when it came time, probably never testified.

  I tightened my arm against his neck. He began to struggle, grabbing my forearm with his hands, attempting unsuccessfully to pull down on my arm. As he began to cough and choke, I thought of Katie testifying in court, explaining to a jury what this asshole did to her.

  Not going to happen. Not my sister. I’d much rather explain to a jury what I did to him than have Katie try to explain anything. I reached up with my left hand and pressed against the back of his head, forcing his neck into my forearm.

  He’ll never do this again, Bug. Never again.

  I pressed against the back of his head and squeezed his neck harder until I felt it…

  Snap!

  I lowered his lifeless body to the floor.

  Forgive me lord.

  I opened the front door and walked out to the edge of the porch and sat down. I rested my elbows on my thighs and placed my head in my hands as I looked out into the street at my car. At this point, there was only one thing I could do.

  I needed to call the only person I felt I could trust regarding what had just happened.

  My girlfriend.

  Vivian Simon.

  Attorney at law.

  CHAPTER I - UNLEASHED

  RIPP. I have never asked God for anything, and I wasn’t about to start because of a situation that was contrary to what I wanted or expected my life to include. Things happen in our life, often times they’re a result of an event or events that we have a difficult time digesting. What Tucker did to Katie was one of those things. There isn’t a soul on earth that would have the desire to deal with something of that nature. If I had the same conditions presented to me a thousand times over, I’d have reacted in the same manner. I know it. Knowing it and even accepting it doesn’t make dealing with it any easier. Taking a man’s life, regardless of the circumstances, seems impossible to come to terms with. I think the difficulty I have processing it proves to me under my savage shell, I am human.

  When I was a kid, my Pop always told me when we need God always provides. Not always when we want, but when we need. Knowing the difference allows us to keep from having unmet expectations in life. Sometimes God’s fulfillment of our need comes in a form different than what we may expect.

  I believe God listens to what we believe our needs to be, and responds by provisions as he sees fit. Some people are just too stupid or stubborn to see it. I may be stubborn, but not to my demise. And stupid isn’t something that I’ve ever considered myself to be. I am, sometimes, more blind than the bats that live under the Congress Street bridge downtown. Today, of all days, I stood grateful that I was able to see; and by the grace of God, hear. On this day, God sent me an angel; an angel in the form of a former United States Marine.

  “Mayb
e I’m different than everyone else, maybe I’m not. I’ve never been one to go around taking a poll or anything, so I can’t say what everyone else does, thinks, or feels. To me, it’s about commitment. If we’re committed to whatever it is, it’s confirmed when things go to hell in a hand basket and we stick to our guns. If we falter or change our opinion, we were never committed in the first place. If we believed in it enough to be committed in the beginning, we must stay committed when things go to shit, brother. Commitment isn’t measured by our belief itself or the depth of conviction regarding the belief, but by what we’re willing to sacrifice to obtain it,” his eyes were distant and his voice steady but with very little emotion.

  He paused and lit a cigarette.

  “So what was the other one? Commitment and what? Death?” he asked.

  I nodded my head slightly, “Yessir.”

  “Yeah, I know a little about death,” he said through his pursed lips as he took a drag from the cigarette.

  “You know why today’s a good day?” he asked as he exhaled a cloud of smoke.

  “Nope,” I shook my head.

  “One reason, because I haven’t had to kill anybody yet,” he responded.

  I nodded softly as he began to speak.

  “Cruze, Soda, and Cunningham were on my team. It was oh-seven. Cunningham was from here in Texas. I remember that. It’s weird what you remember and what you forget. But we…we uhhm,” his voice began to quake and his lips quivered.

  He swallowed and looked up.

  “We went in on the street side. Wish we’d have come in from the back, but it’s easy to say that now,” he took a long pull on the cigarette and exhaled half of the smoke.

  “Cruze hollered clear as he went in, but it was far from fucking clear. Two of ‘em came down the stairs, both spraying the room with fire from their fucking Kalashnikov’s. Cruze took one in the neck immediately. He was probably dead before he hit the floor,” he looked down at his boots, exhaled the remaining smoke from his lungs, and took another long drag.

  “Soda screamed Cruze is hit, and Cunningham went after the Hadji’s. Soda stuck with Cruze. When we got to the second floor, they were gone. There was a hatch that led to the roof sitting there half-latched. It was the only way they could have got out of there. Funny thing about those people, none of them have closets,” he looked up at me, but it was if he was looking through me.

  He reached down to the toe of his boot, stepped on his cigarette, and put the butt in his pocket. He looked up at the ceiling and stared for a minute before he looked down again.

  “And they sleep on a half-assed mattress on the floor too,” I watched his hands shake as he lit another cigarette.

  “So, Cunningham motions clear. And he no more than gets through the hatch and onto the roof, and I’m behind him. And there’s this thing on the roof. This thing. This fucking thing. And, let me tell you. Sometimes you know. You just god damned know. But we’re Marines. And we’re Force fucking RECON Marines. And we’re committed. But god damn it Ripp. I knew. But you don’t turn around. You don’t run. Even if that little thing inside of you says it knows. You don’t. You know why?” he bit the cigarette in his teeth and squinted as the smoke rose into his eyes.

  I swallowed and shook my head from side-to-side.

  “Because you’re committed, so fucking committed you’ll die for the cause,” he closed his left eye and took another puff from the cigarette before he pulled it from his lips.

  “I don’t know how many rounds Cunningham took at first, but he took a few. Each one stopped him for a second. And he screamed. He screamed a scream that I heard Marine’s scream many times after that. The scream of knowing it’s one of the last that’ll ever leave your lips. We both returned fire. And then god damned Cunningham got him. He got him in the hand. Little Hadji fucker dropped his weapon. Right there on the roof. And he stood. Seemed like he was, you know…” he looked up from his boots, paused and appeared to be thinking.

  “Like slow motion. He stood there, his hand half shot off, and he stared. Maybe he knew. Hell, I don’t know. But Cunningham lit him up. Then he turned, looked me in the eyes, and smiled. Close to me as you are right now. And he said, don’t forget A-Train, there’s one more of ‘em. And he died. Right like that, he collapsed on the roof. He didn’t say tell my wife I love her. Or tell my daughter I died a hero. Nope, he reminded me we weren’t done. That there was one more.”

  “Well, when I got to the second Hadji, he was afraid of coming out from behind that damned thing. He could have taken his partner’s AK-47, but he just cowered there and shook, scared to death - holding his hands up, trying to surrender. Well, I knew one thing for sure. I wasn’t taking that little bastard back to interrogate him. I pointed my weapon at his chest and he started hollering and waving his hands,” he held the cigarette at the toe of his boot and stepped on the burning end.

  “And, as he was screaming, I slowly started to raise my weapon. As the barrel came up, his face looked relieved. But I stopped with the muzzle at his head, and immediately his eyes filled with that oh shit look.” he slipped the cigarette butt into his pocket.

  “Oh shit’s right, motherfucker. I fired three rounds into his head, from this close,” he motioned toward me as he spoke.

  “And I kicked him in the gut. When I stepped over his partner, I spit on his dumb ass. Then, I walked over and picked up Cunningham’s body. He was a Lance Corporal. Made that in less than a year. Damned good Marine,” his eyes were moist and full of tears, but none fell.

  “That was my first. And there were a hell of a lot that followed. The last? Yeah. The last,” he shook his head and smiled as if the recollection was something he actually enjoyed.

  “Well, I ain’t quite admitted it to anyone but God. But I’ll tell you, ‘cause you need to hear it right now. The son of a bitch stole a bike from one of the fellas. We voted, and decided to let the cops handle it. I didn’t like it, but I had to honor it. Then, the thieving cock sucker stole a girl’s purse from out of the bags on the bike at our poker run. I fucking swear, once a thief, always a thief. So, long story short. I went to his house, broke in, and found the purse in his garage. Hell, it had her ID in it and everything. And I waited. I waited for that stealing prick to come home,” he clenched his jaw and inhaled a long breath through his nose.

  “I was maybe a hundred and fifty yards out. Maybe a few more. It was damned near dark. He started walking up the driveway and he turned and faced me. You see, God works in mysterious ways. I believe God looks out for those of us that look out for others. We administer his justice. So, I shot that prick between the fucking eyes. He dropped right there in the drive, dead as fuck. I walked up to him, took out his wallet, and took all of his money. I didn’t steal from him as far as I was concerned. I didn’t want that shirt-bird’s money. I wanted what he stole from that girl, Kelli. I didn’t know for sure what he took from Kelli’s purse and what he didn’t. So, him being dead and all, I figured he didn’t need it,” he looked up and smiled.

  “Death. Yeah, I know a little about death,” he paused.

  “And we all can reach a place where we clear our head of the demons. It takes being right with God,” he smiled and pulled another cigarette from the pack.

  “So, now we’re back to commitment. What are you gonna do, and are you committed to it?’ he asked as he tapped the cigarette on his lighter.

  “Well, their offer was five years in prison if I took the plea bargain. Said they’d give me twenty if I took it to trial,” I responded, still in disbelief of what was going on.

  “You didn’t answer my question. And the amount of prison time they’re offering hasn’t got a fucking thing to do with it. Either you’re right or you’re wrong. If you’re wrong, be a man. Walk in and say it, tell ‘em you’re wrong, and do your time. If you’re right, stand up. Stand up and tell them motherfuckers to suck your cock, and prepare for war, ‘cause you’re gonna bring it to ‘em. Yep, tell ‘em to prepare for war. Let me ask you somethi
ng. If you had to do all over again, what would you do?” he asked as he lifted the cigarette to his mouth.

  “I’d do it over, same way a thousand times,” I responded.

  “Why?” he asked as he lit his lighter.

  I thought about his question. I’d never really thought about why. Not really. I told myself that I was in the right, but I never really thought about why. I realized as I sat there and thought about it, my reasoning behind it was not so much about punishment, but about responsibility. I wanted Tucker held responsible for his actions, and I didn’t want him to do the same thing to someone else, ever. What eventually happened was nothing more than a reaction to his action, not a plan that was preconceived. I thought of how to answer what A-Train asked me as I ran my hands along the thigh of my shorts.

  “Because I was right, and he was wrong,” I responded.

  In my mind it was just that simple.

  “Whatever you think you’re right about, do you truly believe you’re right? The cause?” he asked.

  I nodded my head as I stood from my chair, “Yep.”

  “You committed to it?” he asked.

  “Yep. Always have been,” I responded as I popped my neck.

  “So, what are you gonna tell ‘em about that offer to do time in prison?” he asked as he stood from his chair.

  I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone. As I dialed Vee’s number, I swallowed a lump in my throat. Regardless of whether I thought I was right or wrong, it didn’t make the reality of the situation any easier to come to terms with.

  “Vee, about that offer they gave me? I’m ready for you to give ‘em a response,” I said into the phone.

  “Okay, Ripp…” her voice faded as she waited for me to continue.

  “Tell ‘em to prepare for war,” I said.

  “Ripp?” she asked.

  “Yeah, babe,” I responded.

  “I’ll let ‘em know. I’m proud of you, babe. And, for what it’s worth, I started preparing yesterday,” she said.