Outback Justice (Ethan Farrelly Series 1) by Ryan Fleming

There’s only one way to avenge an abduction: leave no one alive.

 
Set in our day in the bloody Australian outback, a latterday farmhand investigates his girlfriend’s kidnapping at the hands of a notorious motorcycle gang.


Times have changed since the days of Ned Kelly and Ben Hall, yet nothing has changed at all. Where once men fought over gold, now they kill over money, drugs and guns. There’s a fine line between upholding the law and being above the law. The biker gangs are the new bushrangers. They’ve said an army of good Aussies couldn’t bring ‘em down, so Ethan Farrelly said, “Why not try a few bad Aussies?”

Outback Justice (Ethan Farrelly Series 1) by Ryan Fleming

$4.99Price
  • PUBLISHER: Blazing Heart Publishing
    RELEASE DATE: May 13, 2020
    GENRE: Blazing MF, Mainstream Suspense Romance.
    FORMAT: eBook, Kindle Mobi
    WORD COUNT: 64,656 words
    PAGE COUNT: 289 pages

  •     Whipping out his knife, he drove it to the hilt between her ribs. It slid in like a butter knife through a jar of jam. Gasping, she went rigid, like she had taken a dip in freezing water. A milky film glossed her eyes, a trickle of garnet cutting a rivulet from the corner of her lips and down her chin.
        “That shoe,” Ethan’s one guttural tone frightened him, “belongs to me bloody girlfriend. She’s been missin’ since blimmin’ yesterday.”
        He expected her to sink to the shag carpet, the last of her life escaping like a phantom into the night. Instead, she shoved him hard in the brisket, reeling him. Ripping the dripping, maroon knife free, she charged him and squealed like a wild banshee. Steel whistled through the air.
        Overbalancing, he staggered against the plyboard wall and lashed out flatfooted. The sole of his boot took her in the thigh, checking her charge. Yanking his leg back, he denied her a crippling slash at his calf. He tore the rifle off his shoulder, levelling it, but she had the reflexes of a striking brown snake. Wailing, she swung the knife overhand towards his skull in a cleaving motion. 
        He brought the rifle up to parry, steel ringing upon steel like a bell. Scowling, she wrenched on the barrel. Round and round they spun in a grotesque dance, criss-crossing their feet, rustling the carpet and squashing beer cans. Gathering momentum, he let the rifle go. She staggered and the rifle tumbled, crunching beer cans and crinkling paper. 
       Snatching the rifle up, he charged her and smashed the steel buttplate against her right wrist. The knife clattered onto the beer cans. Pressing the attack, he speared the muzzle into her belly, bending her double, and struck the stock upside her jaw. Wood thonked against bone, her eyes rolled back, and she melted.
        He panted, gathering his breath, retrieving his knife, and stowing it in the sheath flapping from his waist.
        “Jesus H. Christ,” he said, “bloody hell.”
        She lay on the floor in a crumpled heap, bosom heaving, breathing laboured. Garnet blood gushed onto the carpet like a valve had unlocked in her side.
        “Now, let’s cut the bloody cock an’ bull,” he nudged the round toe of his boot against her leg, “Where’s me bloody girlfriend?”
        “Go ta hell,” she said.
        “Ya’ll tell me if it’s the last bloody thing you do on this bloody earth.”
        “Ye stabbed me with yer pigstick, ye bloody handsome bloke,” she said, “In a tick, I won’t be able to tell you jack!” Tossing her head back, she cackled like a witch.
        Cocking his head and puckering his brow, Ethan seized her clammy, mottled left wrist, “No worries, we can patch ya on up and you’ll be right. What say I start on yer fingers, one by one, then yer toes—again, one at a time—and then I’ll move right on ta yer ears, ‘til ye tell me where the bloody hell Jane is? She somewhere on the property? C’mon, now. I seen her shoe, she must’ve been here. Where is she?”
        Her lips locked, eyes full of bloodlust.
        “Hmm? C’mon, now,” he pressed the blade to her index finger, drawing a thin line of blood, “Be a good sport an’ play along. Nicer ye are, ta me, nicer I’ll be ta you. Sound good?”
        “Ernie!” she turned toward the open front door, “Sic ‘em! Kill boy, kill!”