44.

HUDSON YARDS

MOMENTS LATER

BOBBY AND MARK WERE SQUARED off against each other. Their weapons were on the ground and they were both in crouched fighting position. Mark was bleeding from his lip and had a cut above his right eye. Bobby’s nose was bleeding and he was spitting blood. Bobby ducked under a right cross and landed two strong blows to Mark’s midsection, forcing him to bend at the waist. Bobby then lifted his left knee and landed it hard against the man’s face. Even from several feet away, I could hear the sound of bone splintering and see the geyser of blood flow down the man’s face and stream onto Bobby’s previously crisp white shirt. Bobby then reared back and landed one final blow to the left side of Mark’s head. He stood watching as the bigger man swayed and then fell to the pavement, his head landing with a hard thud on the cracked cement.

Behind us, sirens came from all directions, and I knew that the situation was under control.

I walked over to Bobby and checked on his facial wounds. “I heard shots fired,” he said. “Glad you weren’t the one taking the bullets.”

“Cops will be here soon,” I said. “The two on the ground are going to the hospital. Looks like their pal Mark will be joining them.”

“They can take the collar,” Bobby said. “As long as they don’t cut them loose on a bond once their wounds heal and before I get a chance to talk to them.”

“Chief Connors will handle it,” I said. “These three aren’t going anywhere. Not for a while at least.”

“You should have let me go up against the two,” Bobby said. “You could have handled Mark as easy as I did.”

I glanced at the blood covering Bobby’s face. “It doesn’t look like he was that easy to me,” I said. “You look like you went fifteen rounds with Smokin’ Joe.”

“He sucker-punched me,” Bobby said. “I thought he was going to pull his gun and he almost decked me instead. I haven’t been in one of these kinds of brawls since my first year on the job.”

Three RMPs and an ambulance pulled to a stop. At the corner, a uniform officer began to redirect traffic. “You need to go to the hospital, too,” I said. “You might need some stitches. At the very least something to stop the blood from coming out of your nose.”

A uniform patrolman came up behind us and we pointed him toward the fallen Mark, still lying on his side, bleeding and moaning.

I started to walk with Bobby toward a second ambulance pulling up to the scene. “They might keep you for a few hours,” I said. “I’ll let Connie know. She’ll have the kitchen cook up a meal for you and bring it over.”

“I’d like that,” Bobby said with a smile. “I can’t think of a faster way to heal than to have a great meal with Connie sitting by my side.”

“You’ll get the meal,” I said. “Only Connie won’t be the one bringing it to you.”

“What?” Bobby said. “You don’t trust me with her?”

“Not for a minute,” I said with a smile of my own.