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“You’re unarmed. We made sure of it.” Garcia sneers, doing a bit of knife acrobatics.
I hear guns cock. Not taking my eyes off the knife, I hear Monroe.
“The things they can do with plastic these days. I’d step down if I were—”
Gunshots start, and I turn my head as this shit smoker goes for me. I twist but feel a burn across my brow. Cock sucking mother fucker nicked me. Shots are going off all around me, and I’m still trying to get the fucking knife. With this blood in my Goddamned eye, I can’t reach my gun without the fucker getting a good jab. I’ve got a kid at home. I can’t let this bastard take my life.
“Saint!” I hear Monroe yell as we’ve gotten a bit split.
“Quit being the pansy-ass that you are. Take me out like the fucking Saint that I am.” Thankfully I seem to be better on my feet. He trips, giving me enough time to pull the .22 from my pants and point. “Put the knife down, and I won’t shoot you.” He eyes me like he's unsure. I shoot a hole in his foot. “I said put the fucking knife down!” He finally does. “Now turn around and get to walking. I pick up the knife as I walk past it. Both sides have been hit, but we’re in a standoff. “Tell your men to stand down, or we kill you all.”
“You die first.” Garcia laughs as the room starts spinning. “How’s that feeling, boss baby?”
My mouth goes dry, pain runs up my spine, and I drop to the sound of more gunfire.
