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Brian took a couple more steps, when the nerd belted out a bit too anxiously. “Right there is far enough!”
Brian stopped dead in his tracks. He saw concerned eyes behind those frames, nervously cut to the left. Anyone else wouldn’t’ve noticed, wouldn’t’ve paid attention. Brian was made to pay attention to those things. On either side of Brian were brick walls, apartments. To his right there was an indentation in the building to get to the main circuits. A great hiding spot. Whoever was in there was vulnerable and someone of importance. It was dark in the confined space, so using his peripheral didn’t allow him to make anyone out. He could only feel him. Feel sharp eyes on him. There was someone they knew in that hole. If Brian walked any farther, the guy could emerge on Brian’s six. He had to keep them all in front of him.
“Last time!” The one with the hand cannon in his waistband barked. “Who are you?!”
Brian was out of time. He slowly raised his arms as if he was fully cooperating and lifted his hands to position them over his head—his goal—to activate the panic button on his watch. As soon as his hands were up, Brian used his finger and pressed it firmly at the same time a man exploded out of the hiding spot. He was shorter than Brian by a couple of inches, but he was swift and he was skilled.
“He’s contacting someone!” The man yelled, going for Brian’s watch.
Too late.
Brian spun—expecting the charge—and caught the man’s hand as he went for his weapon. Brian kept his opponent in front of him. If his team wanted to shoot, they’d have to get a good shot and Brian wasn’t going to give them that. This was his only chance. Brian was just able to knock the man’s weapon out his hand, hearing the gun clang and slide across the cement just as he reached for his own. The guy spun them, shoving his body into Brian’s midsection. He hit Brian with four rapid elbows to his abs before he was able to block the fifth. Brian threw his own combination that the man was able to counter efficiently as if he knew the move, well. Brian hissed at the clutch on his throat, narrowed his eyes, dropped his chin hard and slammed his head forward into the bridge of the man’s nose. He yelled out in anguish… and so did the nerd.
“Steele!” The frantic voice screamed.
Brian knew this guy’s posse was scrambling to get control, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the man he fought; not for a second. Brian heard rushed footsteps and his opponent foolishly turned his attention from Brian and yelled at the bowtie. “No, Tech, stay back!”
Brian took advantage and gripped the man around his throat, applying enough pressure to startle him. Brian ducked, simultaneously yanking his blade from his thigh, spun under his challenger’s strategically thrown right fist and came up behind him. Brian moved faster than a cobra, his strikes just as precise. While his opponent’s concentration was on the geek, Brian landed a fast right hook to his midsection adding enough force to make the man bow over in pain. Seizing the opportunity, Brian yanked the guy’s arm up and behind his head and shoved the sharp end of his widow-maker against his flexed bicep.
The guy instantly stilled in Brian’s hold and cursed silently. The challenger had drawn his own tactical knuckle blade—that looked out of this world—but he’d been too late getting it into position. Brian had beaten him.
He must’ve recognized where Brian’s blade was pointing. Directly over his brachial artery. All Brian had to do was push and twist and the man would bleed out in fifteen seconds. Brian had his knife hand around his opponent’s throat, the other hand held his arm at an awkward chicken wing angle, so his blade was in the perfect position.
“Whoa, whoa! This just got way the fuck out of hand!” The smug one wasn’t sounding so smug anymore. “Who the fuck are you?!”
Brian kept his body and his head safely behind their partner. If they shot, they did so at their own risk. None of them looked like sharp shooters. The nerdy guy, he seemed ready to lose his mind. Little did he know that, because of his distraction, his emotions, he’d allowed Brian to get the upper hand.
“I told you I didn’t know who was scarier. You or God.”
Brian ignored JayBoy’s ridiculousness—not understanding what he meant—still watching the men in front of him. They all had their weapons out and drawn.
“I don’t know who you are, man. But, your day just got real shitty.” The one with the tribal art slowly lowered his chrome forty-five, talking to Brian as if he was a toddler. “Just easy. No one needs to get hurt. Lower your weapon.”
