Two hands rocketed toward Mason, grabbing at his coat and hauling him to his feet.
The second he was up, a fist flew toward him, too fast to block. The wind shot from his lungs in an instant, leaving him gasping for breath. These men were a lot stronger than they looked, and he hated he was finding out the hard way.
“You think he’s had enough?” one of them asked.
Mason knew it wasn’t a show of genuine concern.
“Nah, man. He’s still standing.”
They hit him again, a rapid flurry of punches to the gut and face. Mason even felt one land on his ear that sent a ringing sound through his head. He’d been there before—two against one, unfair odds. But one thing was always certain in this situation: they fed off their own confidence, making surprise his best weapon.
With the men still grinning, Mason sprung forward, kicking away from the dumpster with the flat of his foot. The bigger man was the first to go down, a painful jab to his solar plexus keeling him over.
The other man stood dumbstruck. Shock seized him as he realized he was alone, giving Mason just enough time to regain his balance.
“Son of a—” He came at Mason in a clumsy manner.
Mason used that to his advantage, swinging to the left and grabbing the man’s suit jacket. He’d accounted for the man’s hefty weight and used his hip as a pivot to throw him to the ground. Once down, he delivered a paralyzing kick to his gut.
With both men out of action, he ran toward the end of the alley. He convinced himself it was sensible rather than cowardly, but as he approached the opening onto the street, three more men appeared and boxed him in.
“Grab him,” the big man wheezed from behind, climbing to his feet.
For the first time in his long history of fistfights, Mason gritted his teeth in frustration at the odds. Two against one was doable. Five on one? Close to impossible.
Three pairs of hands came at him, pinning him hard to the wall.
“You been hitting my men, sir?” the rodent-like one asked.
Mason didn’t answer. More words meant more trouble. He glanced around for weak spots, hoping to find a way out of there. There was nothing of use.
The biggest guy, now coming back to the crowd to take his vengeance, removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. “Let’s finish his punk ass.”