Part 19
Marcus was trying to get the plane ready before the police arrived.
I didn't hesitate. I slammed my foot onto the gas pedal, steering my heavy truck off the main road and crashing right through the flimsy chain-link perimeter fence of the airfield.
The metal fence tore away with a loud screech, wrapping around my front bumper, but the truck didn't slow down.
I roared across the open tarmac, cutting directly across the path of the silver sedan.
Marcus slammed on his brakes, his tires smoking as his car spun out, stopping just inches away from my heavy steel tailgate.
I threw the truck into park, grabbed the heavy iron tire iron from the floorboards, and stepped out into the biting wind. The deafening roar of the plane's engines filled the air, cutting through the darkness.
Marcus threw his car door open, stepping out with a thick leather duffel bag slung over his shoulder. "What the hell are you doing, old man? Get out of the way!"
"Drop the bag, Marcus," I said, holding the iron bar steady at my side.
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"You're crazy!" he yelled, looking frantically over his shoulder toward the plane. The pilot inside was waving at him frantically to hurry up. "Evan told me what you did! You're ruining his life over nothing! It was just a family fight!"
"He put his hands on my grandkids," I said, taking a slow step forward. "That makes it my fight. Drop the bag, or I'm going to use this bar to reshape your front teeth."
