us? I’d like to see that. I really would.”
I shrugged. “I’ll take on any or all of you. But let’s keep this fair, okay? You’ve already done this the chicken shit way. At least give me a fighting chance.”
I wasn’t entirely bluffing. I knew I’d be hurt if I had to fight them all, but I was good enough to hurt at least a couple of them first. It might be just enough to earn a little respect.
“You calling me chicken shit?” Fish’s rheumy eyes narrowed.
“Five men ambush one man in his sleep. What would you call it?”
He tapped his forehead with his forefinger. “I’d call it smart. But I tell you what. If you can take LeQuintus . . .” He gestured toward the massively muscled black man. “Then we’ll lay off you for a while. Course, ain’t nobody never beat LeQuintus.”
LeQuintus flashed a set of laser-white teeth and flexed his muscles. “Damn straight.”
LeQuintus looked like he ate baby ducks for breakfast and hand grenades for lunch. This was a man who’d skin the Easter Bunny for Sunday dinner. Oh, well. I hadn’t expected them to make this easy. At least I wouldn’t have to deal with all of them at once this time. Not if they played fair.
I know. Only a fool would have expected them to play fair.
“Okay,” I said. “Piece of cake.”
“Hell,” LeQuintus said. “Maybe I’ll fuck you before I kill you.”
“What’s the matter, LeQuintus? Not into necrophilia?”
He looked blank for a moment, then cracked a smile. “Naw. I like to feel ‘em squirm.”
“Now there’s a lovely image,” I said, grinning. Then, firmly believing that the best defense is a good offense, I caught him squarely in the solar plexus with the most beautiful spin kick you will ever see.
I didn’t give him time to catch his balance or his breath before I followed up with a back-fist to the side of his head and a palm strike to the chin.
His head snapped back and he reeled sideways, his eyes already glazed. He threw a weak punch, but I dodged the blow and came up under his guard with a spear hand to the throat.
He gagged and wheezed for breath, his fingers opening and closing like a kitten kneading at its mother’s teat.
In the movies, this is where I would have punched his lights out with my fist. In real life, that will get you broken knuckles or a sprained wrist. The bones of the hand are fragile and unstable compared to the hard, flat planes of the skull, and I suspected that LeQuintus had a head as hard as granite and about as dense.
I could have killed him with a palm-heel strike to the bottom of the nose. I knew the technique, but I had never used it.
In twelve years of police work and another year as a private eye, I’d never killed anyone. I didn’t want to start now.
Instead, I came down with an axe kick to the back of his head and stepped back, hands up in a guarding position, waiting to see if he was stupid enough to get up and try again.
I heard Tyrone move before I saw him. Instinctively, I struck out with my left leg. It sent him stumbling back against the bunk, where his head struck the metal bed frame with an ominous crack. He howled in pain and surprise, clutching at the back of his head.
“Shit, man! You done broke my skull.”
“Good.” I stepped over his outstretched leg and spun so my back was to the bars. If they all charged me, no one could move in from behind.
Whistles, cheers, and catcalls poured from the other cells.
“You go, dude!”
“Pansies!”
“Wassamatter? He too much for you?”
“Sooo-eeee! Sooo-eeee!”
“This little piggy went to prison!”
I looked at Breem. “You said if I took LeQuintus, you’d leave me alone.”
He shrugged. “Looks like I lied.”
They moved in silently, my death in their eyes. I felt a surge of adrenaline and a twinge of something that might have been fear.
“Your funeral,” I said.
And they were on me.
O KAY, ASSHOLES , break it up.”
I looked up through a bloody blur and saw Frank pitch Shelly
I shrugged. “I’ll take on any or all of you. But let’s keep this fair, okay? You’ve already done this the chicken shit way. At least give me a fighting chance.”
I wasn’t entirely bluffing. I knew I’d be hurt if I had to fight them all, but I was good enough to hurt at least a couple of them first. It might be just enough to earn a little respect.
“You calling me chicken shit?” Fish’s rheumy eyes narrowed.
“Five men ambush one man in his sleep. What would you call it?”
He tapped his forehead with his forefinger. “I’d call it smart. But I tell you what. If you can take LeQuintus . . .” He gestured toward the massively muscled black man. “Then we’ll lay off you for a while. Course, ain’t nobody never beat LeQuintus.”
LeQuintus flashed a set of laser-white teeth and flexed his muscles. “Damn straight.”
LeQuintus looked like he ate baby ducks for breakfast and hand grenades for lunch. This was a man who’d skin the Easter Bunny for Sunday dinner. Oh, well. I hadn’t expected them to make this easy. At least I wouldn’t have to deal with all of them at once this time. Not if they played fair.
I know. Only a fool would have expected them to play fair.
“Okay,” I said. “Piece of cake.”
“Hell,” LeQuintus said. “Maybe I’ll fuck you before I kill you.”
“What’s the matter, LeQuintus? Not into necrophilia?”
He looked blank for a moment, then cracked a smile. “Naw. I like to feel ‘em squirm.”
“Now there’s a lovely image,” I said, grinning. Then, firmly believing that the best defense is a good offense, I caught him squarely in the solar plexus with the most beautiful spin kick you will ever see.
I didn’t give him time to catch his balance or his breath before I followed up with a back-fist to the side of his head and a palm strike to the chin.
His head snapped back and he reeled sideways, his eyes already glazed. He threw a weak punch, but I dodged the blow and came up under his guard with a spear hand to the throat.
He gagged and wheezed for breath, his fingers opening and closing like a kitten kneading at its mother’s teat.
In the movies, this is where I would have punched his lights out with my fist. In real life, that will get you broken knuckles or a sprained wrist. The bones of the hand are fragile and unstable compared to the hard, flat planes of the skull, and I suspected that LeQuintus had a head as hard as granite and about as dense.
I could have killed him with a palm-heel strike to the bottom of the nose. I knew the technique, but I had never used it.
In twelve years of police work and another year as a private eye, I’d never killed anyone. I didn’t want to start now.
Instead, I came down with an axe kick to the back of his head and stepped back, hands up in a guarding position, waiting to see if he was stupid enough to get up and try again.
I heard Tyrone move before I saw him. Instinctively, I struck out with my left leg. It sent him stumbling back against the bunk, where his head struck the metal bed frame with an ominous crack. He howled in pain and surprise, clutching at the back of his head.
“Shit, man! You done broke my skull.”
“Good.” I stepped over his outstretched leg and spun so my back was to the bars. If they all charged me, no one could move in from behind.
Whistles, cheers, and catcalls poured from the other cells.
“You go, dude!”
“Pansies!”
“Wassamatter? He too much for you?”
“Sooo-eeee! Sooo-eeee!”
“This little piggy went to prison!”
I looked at Breem. “You said if I took LeQuintus, you’d leave me alone.”
He shrugged. “Looks like I lied.”
They moved in silently, my death in their eyes. I felt a surge of adrenaline and a twinge of something that might have been fear.
“Your funeral,” I said.
And they were on me.
O KAY, ASSHOLES , break it up.”
I looked up through a bloody blur and saw Frank pitch Shelly
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