The goon punched like a gorilla and the blow stunned me. While I was trying to recover from the blow to my left cheek, the thug tossed me off him. I was getting my ass kicked! Knowing if I faltered Willow would die, I stumbled to my feet, intending to go after the man again, but I was slower than he was. As I staggered upright, still trying to shake off the punch to the face, he was already charging me. He hit me like a fucking truck, his arms closing around me to drive me back into the closet.
We went down in a tangle, tearing clothes from the rack as we did. Willow’s closet was a long, narrow walk-in with racks along both sides. I again tried to wrap him up. If I could keep him in the closet long enough, Willow could escape. We tumbled over each other, roaring and bellowing in pain and effort, before I came to rest on top. He tried to claw my eyes out, and as I screamed in pain, I threw myself off the goon before he blinded me. I staggered to my feet, stumbling backward and deeper into the closet. I put my back and shoulder into the right I threw to his face as he rose. His head popped back, and he was clearly stunned, but he didn’t go down. I waded in, pressing my advantage. I drove a hard right and left into his stomach, following up with another right to his chin. Hitting him in the stomach was like punching a side of beef, but my two blows to his face seemed to be taking a toll.
The gunman’s hard left got past me, causing me to woof out a grunt and double over as he drove his fist into my stomach. It was like being hit by sledgehammer. I managed to duck the closer he’d aimed at my face, and took the opening to hit him with a left jab. We were both covered in blood, and we were tiring, but we also knew this was a fight to the death.
He took another swing at me but missed, my reach keeping me out of his range, but he was backing me farther into the closet, and the narrowness of the room prevented me from being able to maneuver. I had to get out of there before he pinned me in and could use his strength against me.
With a bellow, I charged him, crashing into him before picking him up as I drove with my legs. The thug twisted violently as we exploded from the closet, overbalancing me and causing me to stumble. I’d intended to drive the goon into the edge of sink, hoping to the use the hard edge to break his spine, or at least stun him enough that I could incapacitate him further by kneeing him in the nuts or something. I tried to recover my balance, but I couldn’t get away from him quickly enough and banged into the edge of the garden tub.
I roared with pain as we fell into the bath, the man’s weight driving me hard into the side and back of the tub. I was in real trouble. I knew if I didn’t get out of tub, this would be where he killed me. We squirmed and banged, the goon hammering me against the side and bottom of the tub again and again, as I tried to hold him close to minimize the damage he was doing to me.
I was reeling when he finally broke my grasp to stagger to his feet, standing with one foot in the tub, the other on the floor, as he panted like a bellows. “You fucking gringo pussy! You can’t take me!” he sneered as he ripped off the rest of his tattered shirt to free his arms.
“Willow! Run!” I roared as I kicked out, striking the man in the knee. He screamed as he fell, bouncing off the edge of the tub before tumbling into the floor.
The goon grabbed at Willow as she passed, making her stumble, but she kept her footing and bolted from the bathroom, my gun still in her hand. The goon was slow getting up, but no slower than I was. We chased after her, either of us moving very well, but I wasn’t hobbled by a kick to the knee, so I caught him as he cleared the bathroom door to drag him down. With another roar, the goon twisted and then kicked at me with a booted foot. The blow connected solidly on my shoulder, damn near dislocating it, and knocking me backward onto my ass as I bellowed in pain.
The assassin clambered to his feet to pursue Willow, but since he was slowed by his knee, I was able to grab his foot before he escaped, causing him to fall. Before he could turn to face me, I threw myself over him, hauling myself up the goon’s back as he struggled to escape, and took him into another choke hold.
“Not this time, you wetback spic,” I growled as the thug clawed at my arms and face. He’d tucked his chin, reducing the effectiveness of my hold, but I had him. Rolling to my back, I bared my teeth and tightened down with everything I had left, snarling and then roaring in effort as the man thrashed and twisted, trying to break free in the seconds he had before he passed out. Gradually his struggles became weaker until he fell limp. Not taking any chances, I kept the pressure on, wanting to make sure he was either dead or brain damaged, and not just unconscious.
After a long moment I rolled the limp man off me and lay panting. “Willow?” I called as I slowly climbed to my feet. I hurt everywhere.
She appeared a moment later and turned on the bedroom light. “Is he dead?”
His chest was still rising and falling. Pity. “No,” I said as I pushed his hair aside and looked at the back of his neck. I pointed to the tattoo of a coiled snake that was prepared to strike. “The Víbora Cartel,” I panted. “We have to go. Now.”
“We should call the police!”
“Fuck the police! Get some clothes on. There may be another one waiting for us. Hurry up!” I snarled when she hesitated.
The man hadn’t stirred, but I was taking no chances and took my gun from her. I considered shooting the bastard where he lay, but that would only alert anyone waiting in addition to making a hell of a mess. I ejected the magazine and racked the slide of my weapon so I didn’t accidentally shoot myself, before I drew the pistol back and hit the man as hard as I could on the temple with it. There was a sickening crack of breaking bones and blood began leaking from where I’d hit him. Even if I hadn’t killed him, either by starving his brain of oxygen or caving his skull in, the asshole wasn’t going anywhere quickly now.
“What are you doing?” she gasped as I rose from caving the goon’s skull in.
“Buying us some time.”
I reloaded my weapon, and then hissing in pain, I began to dress in the clothes I’d taken off earlier.
She threw on her clothes and then hurried into the bath to turn off the water. When she returned, I was pulling on my last boot, grimacing in pain.
“How are we going to take Mafic?” she asked as I grabbed her hand and began pulling her down the steps.
“We’re not.”
“But–”
“Forget the fucking cat! Do you want to die?” I snarled.
“I can’t leave him!”
“You’re not leaving him! We’ll come back for him in a couple of days! He’ll be okay until then!”
I dragged her into the garage. “Can you ride?” she asked as I snarled in pain mounting the bike. Sitting on it crooked and stooped, I began putting on my helmet.
“I have to. Put on your helmet. When you’re ready, open the door and then get on as fast as you can.”
She nodded. The moment the door began to rise, I thumbed the Harley life and stomped it into gear. The bike settled as she climbed on behind me, and as soon as I thought the windshield would clear the slowly lifting door, I revved the bike hard and dumped the clutch. With the bike skidding sideways as the rear tire spun on the slick concrete floor, we ducked as we rode out from under the still rising door. I heard a gunshot, but I couldn’t tell which direction it came from as we roared down the driveway, banked left, and disappeared into the night.