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He rattled off a few words in his native language. Six men armed to the teeth flooded the kitchen.
The reason for Fung’s sudden balls became clear. It looked like he’d invested the money he owed us into security. Or, in his case, into chefs with big, sharp knives.
Movement flashed on my right. I blocked the fist that came at me, grabbed the fucker’s wrist, and turned it the other way. A yelp and then he was on his knees.
Another man with two butcher’s knives jumped toward Damon. The asshole soared over the kitchen island as if he was flying in some martial arts flick. Luckily, Damon had studied every martial art known to mankind and had at least sixty pounds on his attacker. He jumped out of the way and the man crashed into a steel commercial refrigerator. He was quickly on his feet, though, his knives pointing at Damon.
I leaned against a counter. Angel perched on top of a table full of plates of prepared meals. He sniffed one, then picked up a lamb chop.
“Be careful, brother,” Angel warned while munching on the lamb. “You know, in case he has some killer kung fu moves.”
Damon scoffed. “That only happens in movies, brother.”
I grabbed a dish towel from a rack and threw it at Damon. He plucked it out of the air and wrapped it around his forearm.
A shot rang out and Butcher-knife Guy Number One went down. He grabbed his bleeding leg and all eyes turned to Angel.
He tsked. “Why use a knife in a gunfight and take the risk? What if he’s like Bruce Lee reincarnated?”
I made my way to Fung. He tried to disappear into the wall, but I grabbed him by the neck and smacked his head onto the table. I smashed his head again. Then once more. By the fifth time, he was a whimpering, bloody mess, barely looking coherent.
My phone rang, and I let go of Fung and pulled it out. It was Svetlana.
Fung wouldn’t stop crying. His blubbering made it hard to hear Svetlana so I cut him a look. “Shut the fuck up.”
The wailing continued. The fucker just wasn’t listening.
“Hold on,” I told Svetlana as I looked around. Right on the corner of the counter was a platter of vegetables. Next to it was a glass jar with two peppers in it. Curious. I took one out and peered closely at it, and my eyes immediately watered.
I turned toward Fung. “Open your mouth.”
When he spotted my weapon of choice, the whimpering increased. He shook his head.
Damon held Fung’s head steady and pinched his nose so the man couldn’t breathe. I shoved the pepper into his mouth and Angel, helpful as ever, handed me a glass of water. I forced it down Fung’s throat.
Fung’s face turned the same fiery red as the pepper had been. Sweat dotted his brow.
Angel grimaced. “Jesus, he’s sweating like a pig.”
“That was a Trinidad Moruga Scorpion, the second hottest pepper in the world,” Damon explained.
I looked at him. “And you know this how?”
“Research.”
Angel looked disgruntled. “You’ve used it as a weapon before, haven’t you? I can’t believe you did that without me.”
Damon’s grin resembled that of a grizzly. “Sometimes it’s more effective to shove a pepper up someone’s ass than carve up his skin.”
I nodded. “Medieval torturers everywhere would be proud of you.”
Damon grabbed the remaining pepper from the jar. “Mmm. Spicy.”
Every eye in the room was glued to him. He didn’t even break a sweat.
It figured that it didn’t have any effect on him. If a venomous snake bit him, the poor reptile would probably die instead of my enforcer.
I stepped over Fung, who lay passed out on the floor, and made my way outside. The twins were right on my heels.
