Fierce (17 page)

Blondie brandished a flick knife, whereas Avery was unarmed…

***

The tiniest slip of concentration or the slightest hesitation would decide this, he knew. Avery daren’t attack first, and his prick opponent didn’t want to. Each knew how lethal the other was. Yet, this kind of standoff never lasted long. On the streets of Detroit, the coolest head nearly always prevailed, while the hothead went down swinging. It was more a test of composure than of strength.

His opponent tonight was not a hothead. In fact, he’d put up a decent fight so far. He’d countered well. And the way he circled Avery, not quite within striking distance but close enough to tease a rash attack, suggested he was either ex-military or ex-law enforcement.

He jabbed with his knife, but, again, not with the intent to hit; he wanted Avery to try a counter move, to try to take the initiative. Nope. No way. The guy knew how to handle a blade. Close quarters would be suicide, unless the knifeman attacked first, genuinely attacked…then Avery would be ready. Self-defense was the cornerstone of all martial arts, and he’d spent the past decade mastering his composure.

No words passed between them. Only a steady tacit understanding, communicated through movement: first one to lose his cool would lose his life.

If only he had a weapon of his own…

He glimpsed Rose creeping up behind the man, barefoot, ready to hit him with some kind of heavy brass post.

No
!
Don’t do anything stupid
!

He had to watch her in his peripheral vision, for fear his opponent would catch him glancing her way. The prick would
know
someone was there. If he turned around now, she’d have no chance, and Avery would have no choice but to attack.

Don’t do it, Rose. But if you have to, for God’s sake, don’t miss.

To distract him, Avery put up his dukes and adopted an oblique boxing stance, positioning himself in the middle of the aisle so that the guy’s back was squarely facing Rose. She sneaked up on the balls of her feet. Cocked the brass post over her shoulder. Her eyes bulged wide and blazing. She made ready to swing…

Down she went. The brass post smashed into a slot machine and fell to the carpet with a clatter. The other man, the one whose face Avery had planted into a pinball machine, was awake. He’d crawled along the carpet behind Rose and had swept her legs from under her.

Jesus,
she was on the deck, right in the middle of them. Knifeman leapt on top of her and held the blade to her throat.

“Step back or I’ll open her up!” he spat.

Avery stepped back. Slowly.

“Keep going. Back away into the next aisle. Do it or she’s dead!”

Avery obeyed, at the same time scanning the casino for signs of Marlon, Ash, Lena, and the other abductors. This was still a standoff, but he’d lost the initiative. If it stayed like this, he’d have no choice but to let them take her.

Think, goddamnit, think.

By now, Pinball Guy was on his feet again and staggering after them. His crimson-stained shirt collar illustrated how badly his head and face were cut. He could barely walk, let alone fight. That was good. It meant the onus was solely on Knifeman. And Avery remembered: these men were here to
abduct
Rose, not to kill her. The guy was very likely bluffing.

Still, that wasn’t a risk Avery wanted to take. A cornered mercenary was cornered first, a mercenary second. His job played second fiddle to his survival. And his survival relied on his poker face. If pushed, he might very well slit her throat and worry about the consequences later.

What they needed was…an intervention.

A six-two, two hundred and three pound black intervention named Marlon Washington. He had disposed of his own opponent near the doors and had come to help Avery and Rose against the remaining abductors. His position, crouched between a pair of especially loud and obnoxious slot machines, was a smart one. Waiting for his chance to strike and snatch the knife away from Rose’s throat. He had one small window of opportunity, and he knew it. The slightest mistimed move and she’d be dead.

Marlon puckered his lips and puffed his cheeks through every exhale. Knifeman inched toward him unawares, leading Rose, who watched Avery closely. She didn’t panic, didn’t cry. She just accepted the situation and was waiting, hoping it would change.

But Avery daren’t alert her to the imminent intervention, not even with a flick of his gaze in Marlon’s direction. Knifeman might see it. Instead, Avery kept backing away, one careful step at a time, veering ever-so-slightly to his left, moving his opponent imperceptibly into the ambush.

Still no security. No sirens outside. The casino punters had vanished completely; maybe they’d been evacuated. It didn’t matter. So long as no one interrupted this stalemate until Marlon…

He struck out, grabbed Knifeman’s knife arm with both hands and twisted. Knifeman yelled, but kicked Marlon in the backs of his knees, knocking him off balance.

Rose squirmed free.

Avery pulled her away and blocked Knifeman’s lunge to grab her. He slugged Knifeman in the gut with his left, then delivered a huge uppercut with his right. It snapped Knifeman’s head back, and with Marlon having maintained his grip, the man spun like a ragdoll around Marlon’s back, where he slumped, unconscious onto the carpet.

The last abductor, Pinball Man, knew he had no chance. His shoulders drooped, and he bowed his head, exhausted and still bleeding. However, Avery was in no mood for mercy, or for taking any more chances. These men had tried to kidnap Rose, and they weren’t messing around. Well, neither was he.

“It took five of you to take one girl, and you still lost.” He jabbed Pinball Man square in the face to daze him, then slapped a rear naked choke on him. Asshole was out like a light in less than thirty seconds. Avery let him flop to the deck.

Rose limped over and threw her arms around Avery. He held her tight, lifted her in his embrace, and carried her outside. “You sure you’re okay?” he asked.

“I think so. I-I didn’t mean to get you all in trouble. They came from nowhere. I don’t even know why they tried to take me.”

“You’ve never seen them before?”

“No.”

“And they didn’t say anything?” He fetched his cell phone out of his pocket and dialled 911, still holding her with one arm.

“They said I’d been asking questions about Delgado,” replied Rose.

“Who?” Avery didn’t give her time to answer; he told the emergency operator to send a couple of police cars and a couple of ambulances to The Dolphin immediately, and said there’d been an attempted kidnapping. Several men and three women were injured. The operator told him to stay put—the units were already on their way—and to notify the casino security immediately, if he hadn’t already done so.

Yeah, right after I ask Santa for a new deck of cards.

In the meantime, he made sure the others hadn’t been badly hurt. Marlon had a few cuts to his face—one of the men had worn a ring—but was otherwise fine. In fighting shape for tomorrow. Ash and Lena, though, had copped it worst. Ash had a broken nose, maybe a dislocated shoulder, while Lena had a severe groin strain and possibly a broken rib or two. They’d beaten one opponent unconscious, but the other had got away.

“Don’t sweat it,” replied Avery. “You girls were awesome tonight. Fucking awesome.”

“It’s not quite the party we had in mind,” said Ash.

“But we did get hit on,” added Lena. “Well, sort of.”

Avery realised he was still carrying Rose around with him, and that he didn’t want to put her down. But how could anyone with such heavy personal baggage be so light? Everywhere she went, people seemed to want a piece of her, and not in a flattering way. Why? Was she really that easy to hate? He just didn’t see it.
At all.
Sure, she was rough around the edges and never did as she was told, but as far as he was concerned, Rose was worth any ten women he knew. She was fierce, loyal, smart, funny (in her own way), and she looked amazing without being overly aware of it.

She got down on her own. The first thing she did was shake hands with the Culver sisters, her old enemies.

“That was really something, you guys,” she said. “I’d be a gone girl if it weren’t for you.”

“Don’t mention it,” answered Lena, nursing her ribs.

“Us Mitre girls gotta stick together,” said Ash, holding her head back as Marlon applied his handkerchief to her still-bleeding nose. “And anyway, we needed the practice.” She winced when Marlon patted her shoulder, not thinking.

“I’m buying you a drink before we fly back,” said Rose. “No arguments.”

“Deal,” replied Lena. “I think we should all have dinner…in Cell Block B.”

“No way
we’re
taking any flak,” said Ash.

“Kidding,” her sister reassured her.

In truth, Avery hadn’t thought the Culver girls had it in them. Facing down five guys like that, and all to protect someone they didn’t even like. Maybe Tyler had taught them well after all. In any event, tonight was certain to become a part of Mitre’s fighting folklore. The Rumble in Reno. Die Hard at The Dolphin.

When the cops finally arrived, followed by EMS, the lingering question on everybody’s lips was:
What the fuck happened to the casino’s security personnel?

Officer Bowman returned with the answer shortly after the four unconscious abductors were cuffed to their stretchers and trundled into the ambulances. “They were called to an emergency staff meeting at The Oasis,” he announced with a flustered, baffled look Avery didn’t wholly trust. This whole incident stunk of corruption, and in a town like Reno, that stink was likely to rise high, perhaps to someone near the top.

“At night? During peak gaming hours?” Marlon pointed out. “What sort of bullshit is that?”

“We’ll look into it,” said Bowman.

Avery shared a glance with Marlon that said they both knew how far the cops would look—no further. And after the officers had taken statements from Rose, Avery, and Marlon, and the medics had tended everyone’s wounds—they took Ash and Lena to the hospital—Avery asked Bowman for a contact number, someone he could speak to personally regarding any progress made with the case. Bowman gave him a card with the local precinct’s details, and told him which number was best to call.

“Who owns The Dolphin?” Rose asked Bowman.

The officer looked her up and down, then blinked a few times. “Shane Hoskins. Why do you ask?”

“Why shouldn’t she?” Avery interrupted.

“No reason. I’d just recommend you folks let us take it from here.”

“We will,” Rose lied—Avery could see it in her gorgeous penetrating glare. “But before you go, Officer, can you tell me one more thing?”

“Sure thing.”

“Who owns The Oasis?”

His eyes narrowed a fraction. “Shane Hoskins.”

Rose nodded. “I see.” She took Avery by the arm, and Marlon as well, ready to lead them both back to the hotel. “Tell him hello from me,” she said to Bowman over her shoulder.

Avery’s sigh was heavy with equal parts relief and trepidation. She was safe now, mostly unharmed; but for how long? She had a talent for making enemies, and next time she might not be so lucky.

But once again, she hadn’t
started
this trouble. It had just found her.

He thought about that on the way back to the hotel. About how trouble had always found him on the streets of Detroit, before he’d had his lucky break with Luca and the fight club. He’d had a talent for making enemies, but the difference was, he’d been tough enough to break them. Rose wasn’t tough enough yet.