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This guy was big. Nearly as tall as I was. He definitely had some training, but he wasn’t a professional.
This would take different tactics. Good thing I had been trained to kill and to do it with startling efficiency. Granted, most of the subjects didn’t know I was coming.
A quick glance at Diana told me she was alive—hurt—but alive. I growled in frustration and turned back to my prey.I’m going to kill that asshole.
The brute lunged for me, and I deftly stepped out of the way but not before delivering a right hook to the temple. The guy staggered, but unfortunately he caught hold of part of my sleeve and pulled me down with him.
Shit, scrapping on the ground was not how I wanted this confrontation to happen. Pound for pound, I was too evenly matched on the ground. Maybe even outmatched.
Jujitsu training had never been my favorite. There was something about sweaty balls in the face that lacked a certain appeal for me. But still, I’d been a quick study. I kneed the guy in the groin. And although the move was somewhat effective, it didn’t slow down my attacker as much as I would have liked. The motherfucker put his hands around my neck and squeezed. I had seconds before it was lights out. I managed a punch, but the guy just groaned and continued applying pressure to my neck.
I turned my head, relieving some of the pressure on the trachea. And then I worked my arm up and over between the guy’s arms, taking one sharp inhale before delivering a strike directly under the jawline at a pressure point. That loosened the guy’s grip enough for me to bring my knees up and dislodge the asshole, flinging the guy over my head.
Once I was on my feet again, it was all about hand-to-hand combat.
Kicks were my favorite, and I wanted to keep the big asshole from delivering any blows. He might be slow, but if he landed a punch, it wouldn’t be pretty.
Behind me, I could hear Diana rolling around, trying to get to her feet.
I delivered a midlevel front kick, then went straight for the knee. Knees were a close-combat tool. But they were effective.
I pulled the guy in close, then used my arm like a bar under his chin directly on his throat. Grabbing hold of his shirt, I used my other arm to drag the big guy forward. I delivered a knee to the stomach, and the guy doubled over. Then I pulled back and delivered a knee to the skull. And it was lights out.
Quickly I turned to Diana. “Are you okay? If you can, get out of here. My car is—”
“Rafe, behind you,” she yelled.
Shit. The other guy was on his feet, moving fast. Way faster than his friend. And joy of joys, he had a knife. Luckily for me, though, this guy was not as well trained as his partner. The knife swung down in a wide arc, giving me enough time to just lean out of the way. The edge of the knife grazed my neck, nicking me, but didn’t deliver a fatal blow. I probably wouldn’t even need stitches. Leaning forward, I used my body to protect Diana and then swept my right leg out from behind me, catching the guy’s foot and sending him down.
I was on him after that, going for his knife arm. I applied enough pressure to make the guy scream.
That’s right, bitch, call for your mommy.
It was times like this that I couldn’t deny what I was. I was a killer. I enjoyed this. These were the moments that got my blood pumping. These were the moments that I lived for.
I was well aware that there was something wrong with me, deep down. But I didn’t have time to analyze that just now. The other guy was quick and had his other arm up, delivering a blow right over my ear and making my head ring. But there was no way I was letting go of the hand holding the knife. I wasn’t getting cut in this motel room again. Not today.
It was that fine line I had to walk between letting these assholes live, well, at least one of them, and burning this whole place to the ground, which was what I wanted to do. But I needed for one of them to talk. Right now I was going to go with the one who hadn’t actively been trying to kill Diana when I walked in. It was open season on the other guy as far as I was concerned.
The guy refused to let go of the knife, and I was sick of that shit. While we both wrestled for control over that arm, I made a fist and delivered a jab to the asshole’s trachea. Instinctively the guy beneath me reached for my throat and let go of the knife.
Seizing the opportunity, I grabbed his wrist and rotated that puppy all the way around, the sound of the resulting crunch satisfying me. Even as the room filled with the asshole’s pitiful screams, I did what I did best. I pinned the asshole’s arms with my kneesthen grabbed him by the ears and jammed the fucker’s head back onto the ground. Hard. Too bad they were on carpet. If it had been cement, then this guy would never be waking up again.
Well, I could fix that.
The problem with letting my monster out to play was sometimes it was a little hard to put the guy back in his box. In seconds, I lost track of who I was, what was happening. All that mattered was these people had tried to kill Diana. This guy had hurt my woman. Enraged all over again at just the thought, I pulled out my gun and flipped the safety off.
The guy groaned at the sight, but there was no way I was letting him die yet. “Oh no you don’t, asshole. You’re going to answer a few questions first.”
Behind him, Diana whimpered. Fuck. She sounded afraid. I forced myself to stand and drag my reluctant prisoner up with me while still keeping the gun on his temple.
“Diana—” The words froze on my tongue when she came into view.
The stockier guy had gotten up while I was busy and now had Diana locked against him with a gun to her skull.
“It looks like we have a standoff.”
I clenched my teeth. “Let her go, or your partner dies.”
