Page 157 of Dominance

“Nikolai!” One of the tanks barks.

“Right. We have to, how do you say…whack you?”

“Whew, tease me with a good time, Niko, but I think I’ll just head on out. You boys have a good night. Vodka’s on me.”

“Not how this works, Diamante. You poke nose in beezness. We must make example.”

“Cool. Cool, cool, cool. So what’s the drill? Beat me up? Drag me to your boss? I’d love to talk to him, so we could just skip the beating.”

Several guns cock, and several other bludgeoning weapons smack into meaty palms.

Welp.

Nikolai’s between me and the stairs, the easiest way out.

And he never expects me to leap onto his chest, plant one foot, launching myself over him, right toward the metal beam behind him.

Slicing the old rope pulley, I fly up through the air, soaring out over the stunned faces of my attackers. Only a couple of them think to start shooting.

A front flip and I launch two of my knives, whipping out the Eagle and popping off a couple of rounds before I touch down, diving into a roll.

Three out of four ain’t bad.

Fourth shot hit the behemoth in the flack vest. Damn.

His fist whooshes in at my face, sending me bending back, skidding to my knees and slicking out one foot to crack the side of his knee. Snap, crackle, pop, he’s screaming.

Planting one hand, I pinwheel, taking Nikolai in the chest with both feet, sending him and his gun flying into the steps.

I manage to get off one more throw of a blade before the bullets start ticky-tacking in my wake. Sprinting for cover, I hop up between two massive old machines, suspending myself just as a shotgun blast scatter-shots under the feet of the contraptions.

Hm. These guys know their shit. How to flush out someone in cover.

So I go up instead, spidering between the two surfaces and swinging up onto the piping above.

Just below me, two hunk-hunk-a-Russian-thugs creep by, scanning for me.

The massive steel hook dangling beside me unclips easily enough, dropping right onto the first with a sickening thud.

Followed by me, dropping knee-first onto the shoulders of the other, driving him into the ground.

Sweet! Four left?—

The clotheslining arm juts out ahead of me, slamming me to the floor in a coughing fit. Right before the butt of a rifle hits the concrete where my head was a split second before.

I keep rolling, twisting into a somersault, back to my feet?—

Ping!

A steel pipe takes me in the side of the head.

“Ow!” I yelp, going with the flow and tumbling sideways to the ground in agony. Midair, I get tackled by fur and teeth, growling and snapping at my upraised arms.

They brought a dog to a man-fight!

Bastards.

I hate when they use animals as weapons. This one is particularly feisty.

---