One down.
And now Clint had to move to the other side of the court. But where was the leader? Where had he gone? Maybe they’d run into each other in the shadows?
~*~
When Conroy reached the back step of the house, the Gunsmith wasn’t there.
Shit.
The man was doing the same thing he was doing, using the fight as a distraction.
Maybe this wasn’t going to work.
~*~
Clint heard the blows, and the foot scrapes on the tile, from the center of the court, but kept himself from looking. He needed his night vision to be unaffected as he moved around the perimeter.
He paused as he got to the other side, relocated the other man, and moved toward him.
Jace King didn’t even know he was there, and then Clint hit him and lowered him to the ground.
Two down.
~*~
The blows to the ribs had hurt.
Maggio was a hard hitter. Matt only hoped the man couldn’t take a punch as well as he delivered one.
Maggio hit him again, and he knew it was time. He couldn’t take the blows as well as he used to. That was one of the reasons he’d retired from the ring. Now, at 48, Maggio was wearing him down.
~*~
Clint looked into the court just in time to see Matt throw a right hand that connected with Maggio’s chin. The big black man’s body vibrated as the blow froze him n place just long enough for Matt to land a second one.
And Maggio went down.
~*~
Matt turned as Clint came out of the darkness. Clint saw the damage his face had taken.
“What took you so long?” Clint asked.
“I had to hit him twice,” Matt said. “I’m out of shape.”
“I better get you to a doctor,” he said.
“What about the others?”
“They’re all down, except for the leader.” Clint looked around. “I think he’s gone.”
“How can you tell?”
“If he was still here,” Clint said, “he would have shot us by now.”