I rolled off the bed and ran to the other side of the room.
The person stood just outside the door. The fact that they knew I was here didn’t bode well for me. We hadn’t told anyone where we were holed up.
I flattened my back against the wall beside the door and waited.
Nothing happened for nearly ten seconds.
The mind remained blank to me, its defenses too strong for me to penetrate.
Then the door burst inward, the jam splintering.
A flash of a boot was visible for a second before disappearing back into the hallway.
A man rushed inside, pistol first. It was massive, more akin to a cannon than a handgun. It looked like a Desert Eagle, but I’d never seen one in person so I couldn’t be sure. The end had a silencer attached to it.
In a flash, I grabbed the barrel of the gun and twisted, catching the man’s finger in the trigger guard.
The pistol fired, the sound louder than I would have expected from a silenced gun. It bucked in my hands. The window on the other side of the room exploded outward.
The man didn’t cry out even as I heard the crunch of his finger breaking.
I pulled the pistol from his grip and spun into the doorway.
The Man in Black stood before me. He who liked to jab needles into my shoulder. Smith’s right-hand man. His face was an expressionless canvas. If he was concerned that I’d gotten the drop on him, he didn’t show it.
I raised the gun to aim at his chest, but he shifted his weight and batted my hands to the side before I could even see how he’d done it. The pistol flew down the hallway, sliding on the thin carpet.
He moved with mind-blowing speed. My head rocked back as he hit me with a jab that I never saw coming.
A growl escaped my throat as I dove into him, driving his back into the opposite wall of the hallway. I threw an elbow at his face, but he ducked out of the way and I struck the wall.
He kicked at the back of my knee, buckling my weight.
I fell to the floor, but recovered quickly and rolled away as he threw a sidekick at my face. I hopped up, five feet away, and squared off with him.
We stood in the middle of the hall, two bulls preparing to lock horns.
I rolled the shoulder he’d jammed the needle into. “I’ve been looking forward to this moment all day.”
The Man in Black raised his hands to chest height. His eyes remained locked on mine.
The index finger on his right hand canted sideways between the first two knuckles.
He grabbed it with his free hand and yanked it back into place. No emotion on his face. Not a hint of pain.
“I’m going to do that to your neck.” I started forward, raising my hands and tucking my chin. “Time for the main event.”
He cracked his neck and stood in place, waiting for me to close the distance.
When I was five feet away, he pivoted on his lead foot and spun around, catching me in the stomach with a spinning back kick. The move was so explosive, so fluid, that I didn’t have a chance to get out of the way.
The air whooshed from my lungs as I staggered back. It took all of my strength and willpower to stay on my feet.
A small smirk cracked his veneer as he waded forward. He didn’t bother protecting his head with his hands. Complete disdain for my fighting ability showed in his every movement.
I was no threat to him, and he knew it.
My back hit another door and I leaned against it for a second, focusing on getting a breath. You couldn’t fight if you couldn’t breathe. That was why my boxing coach always emphasized body shots.
“You think you’re so fucking cool, don’t you?” He walked me down, sneering at my pain.
I wanted to retort, but talking was a bit difficult for me at the time.
He threw another kick, this time at my face. I barely ducked out of the way in time. His foot splintered the door, breaking the frame and lock. It popped open, banging against the inside wall.
A door down the hall opened, and an elderly woman stuck her head out. “What’s going on?”
I forced a deep breath, said, “Get back inside!”
The man stalked toward me again.
Fighting the average person was easy for me because I could read their mind. That didn’t apply to professional fighters though. They reacted on instinct, without forethought or planning for the most part. There wasn’t time for me to process what they wanted to do and beat them to the punch.
This guy was both a skilled fighter and a blank canvas to me. His mind was blocked off, and I doubted he spent much time formulating a game plan to take me out. He didn’t have to.
I threw a feint with my left and put everything I had into a right hook.
He ducked it with ease before driving a knee into my ribs.
The blow knocked me to my ass. It felt like I had a hole in my chest.
I crab-walked backward on my hands, needing to put distance between us. His shots were tearing me up, and I knew that I couldn’t take many more of them.
He kept coming. “Nothing funny to say, smart guy? No quips?” He stomped on my left knee.
The pain almost made me pass out. Colors swam in my vision, glowing swirls of neon.
I grabbed at the joint, grunting and rolling to my side. The bottom half of my leg burned.
Something on the floor jabbed into my shoulder.
The pen that had fallen from the bag.
The Man in Black grabbed the collar of my shirt and pulled me to a seated position. He leaned over, sneering into my face.
“Pathetic. For all your bluster, you’re nothing.”
I mumbled, purposely keeping my voice low. My hand wrapped around the pen behind me. I pulled the cap off with my fingers and let it fall to the carpet.
He leaned closer. “What?”
“Let me show you what I think of those sissy kicks.”
I jammed the pen into the side of his neck.
He gagged and jerked away, reeling several steps backward.
My knee throbbed as I struggled back to my feet. The elevator whirred behind me as it rose toward our floor. I hobbled for it, hoping the doors would open before I got there.
The gun rested a few feet away, lying in the middle of the hall by the elevator.
I glanced over my shoulder when I was halfway there.
The man grabbed the pen and slowly pulled it free. Blood ran from the hole in his neck, soaking into the collar of his white shirt.
“You might want to disinfect that,” I said. “I found the pen on the floor.”
He threw it against the wall and came for me again.
The elevator dinged. The doors opened. A rotund, red-faced man stood in the corner. He took a step forward to exit the elevator when he spotted me. His eyes went wide, and he pressed back against the wall.
I scooped up the gun and turned around, slowed by my already-swelling knee. The Desert Eagle had a heft that surprised me. Its weight felt closer to that of a shotgun than a pistol.
The man speared me at the waist in a tackle that lifted me from my feet and drove us into the elevator.
My back crashed against the wall beside the frightened man in the corner.
Black Suit grabbed my wrist and slammed it off the metal railing in the middle of the wall. The gun fell from my grasp as a new bolt of pain ran into my forearm.
The doors closed behind us. We descended.
I threw a short left that caught him in the temple. He ate it like a pancake.
Kicked me in the same knee.
I fell to the floor, instinct making me reach for the damaged joint.
He grabbed a handful of my hair and slammed my face off the railing.
I slumped against the wall. My limbs were sluggish and unresponsive. Face throbbed. Knee ached. Equilibrium shot.
“Hey! Leave him alone!” The man in the corner finally reacted. He reached out to grab the shoulder of Smith’s goon.
He took a ridge-hand chop to the throat for his troubles.
The chubby man fell into the corner, sliding down to the floor. His eyes darted around wildly. His fingers groped at his neck as gags escaped his clenched teeth.
The Man in Black turned his attention back to me.
My senses had come back somewhat, but I played possum. I slowly moved my eyes up his body. Blood ran over my lips and teeth as it poured from my nose. I let it flow, acting like I didn’t have the strength to wipe it away.
I couldn’t beat him in a fight on our feet. I had one more trick up my sleeve.
“Some great soldier.” He reached for the pistol. “You were right about one thing—you didn’t deserve that Service Cross. They wasted that medal on your pathetic ass.”
My hand snaked out and grabbed onto his wrist. I pulled him down on top of me as I lifted my hips.
My right leg looped around his neck, bending at the knee. I pulled him down further until his wrist was close to my head. My damaged knee bent over the ankle of my right leg, cinching in a triangle choke.
Exquisite pain ran into my quad and hamstring from the bad knee. My body quivered as I fought against the agony. If I didn’t stop the man there, he would execute me and then move on to Drew.
I squeezed my legs together as hard as I could. My fingers laced behind his head and I pulled it down, applying more pressure to his neck.
The move restricted blood flow to the brain. I’d submitted many of my grappling partners in jiu-jitsu class with it, but I’d never put it on someone in a real-life situation before.
The man thrashed around as he tried to pull his head and arm free.
I squeezed even harder.
His free hand grabbed onto the trapped one. He stood up, lifting me from the floor even as I remained attached to his head and shoulders.
I knew what was coming next. I’d seen it done to a few guys in the UFC before.
Braced myself.
He slammed me down to the floor again. A spasm ran through my back from the blow. The only thing that kept me from being knocked unconscious was the other man in the elevator.
The back of my head landed on his leg, softening the blow.
I clenched my teeth and put what little strength I had left into the hold. Blood gushed from my nose, staining the golf shirt I’d stolen. Red spittle flew from my mouth as I took ragged breaths.
The Man in Black punched at my legs and chest. His movements grew sluggish. Each blow was weaker than the last. His eyes fluttered.
If we were in class, he would have tapped by now.
His body slumped against me. His legs gave out and his ass thumped to the floor, shaking the elevator.
More than anything, I wanted to maintain the hold, to starve his brain of blood and oxygen until it killed him. As much as I desired it, I wasn’t a murderer.
I let it go, grimacing at the pain in my knee. It was already starting to stiffen and swell. The pants tightened around it.
I kicked him away and rolled toward the man in the corner.
He’d stopped moving. I checked his pulse, found it steady. The throat chop hadn’t killed him, but it had done some internal damage. His throat was darkening as I watched it. The man needed medical attention.
The Man in Black’s eyes fluttered. A groan escaped him.
The problem with choking people unconscious is that they wake up a few seconds later when blood returns to their brain.
A swift heel to his chin solved that issue.
I flopped onto my back and stared at the ceiling, feeling every blow that had hit me that day.
The elevator dinged. The doors opened.
Four people stood in the lobby of the hotel, waiting to go up to their rooms.
They gaped at the carnage in the elevator. Bodies and blood covered the floor.
I gave them a crimson smile. “Going up?”