Blue Moon: Too Good to Be True by A. E. Via

try to
    take down three armed men by himself, it was too risky. Max could only hope that the robbers really didn’t want to hurt anyone, especially Angel.
    However, his new friend’s cool exterior was helping to ease his nerves.
    He prayed the few bar patrons would follow the masked men’s instructions…and for God’s sake, he hoped no one tried to be a hero.
    He looked at the bartender with the gun now pointed at his head and saw that the pudgy man was shaking so hard he could barely manage to get the small quantity of bills into the paper bag. Max tried to remember as many details as possible of what he could see of the three men. He knew it wouldn’t be very helpful since they were so heavily layered in bulky black hooded sweatshirts and jackets.
    Damn, these guys are dumb. Max thought. Wearing that outfit in Virginia in July screams ‘Hel o, cops. I just robbed someone. Because otherwise, I’d have on shorts and a tank top like a normal person in ninety degree heat.’
     
    Angel watched the two ignorant assholes continue to bark orders at the few people that were now crouching in corners covering their faces trying not to make direct eye contact with the men. He, however, was taking in as much as he could. He placed his drink down softly on the bar as not to startle the man with the gun aimed at the bartender.
    Angel hoped these men took what they needed and got the hell out of there. He didn’t know if Max believed he was the designated hero since he was a firefighter…he silently hoped not. He didn’t want to lose Max already without even getting to know him. For some reason that thought pained Angel, and he turned to look in Max’s blue-gray eyes. It was as if something had clicked between them when they had their stare-off, because Angel could have sworn they were both telling each other with their eyes “Don’t do anything stupid.” Max gave him a slight wink. Oh damn.
    One of the crowd control flunkies made his way over to where they were sitting at the end of the bar and pointed his gun at Max’s back. Angel’s pulse kicked up ten thousand beats per minute, but he expertly controlled his
    breathing like his father taught him. Never let your attacker know you’re afraid, because then they have control. Even if you are afraid, or angry, control your breathing at al times. It’s not humanly possible to never get scared or angry, but it is possible to trick your opponent into thinking you aren’t. If you have ful control of your emotions then you will make rational decisions…and therefore defeat your enemy. Angel let his father’s words penetrate his mind as he began to take deep, even breaths.
    “Both of you fuckers get up and move to face the wall…now! You both look like fucking troublemakers,” the masked man barked out at them with the gun trained on Max.
    This guy is an idiot , Angel thought. He mentally rolled his eyes as he and Max moved off their stools in unison and moved toward the back wall.
    The man looked back to Angel. “Hurry up…move it! Let’s go pretty boy…I don’t want you and him trying anything funny.”
    Max was walking in front and Angel heard him chuckle, maybe at the “pretty boy” reference. Max was definitely the man of Angel’s dreams, he had a forty-five pistol pointed at the back of his head and he was laughing. It made Angel smile. He saw the robber move in closer to Max, obviously not liking him finding this situation humorous.
    Angel reacted so swiftly the man would’ve never been able to counter his efficient move. He executed a roundhouse kick to the man’s right temple that landed him flat on his back in mere seconds. The gun was dislodged from his grip and slid under the booth next to them. Angel was back up and standing very close to Max’s front before the man managed to get his bearings and work his way off the floor. Clearly he was trying to process what the fuck just happened. Angel stared the man down as he calmly walked him and Max