Page 16 of Mexico Can Choke On It
With extreme force, she pushes off the door, launching us both backward. For one suspended moment, we’re airborne—a tangle of limbs rocketing toward the ground.
SLAM!
My back hits against the stone path with bone-pulverizing force. All the air in my lungs evacuates in aWHOOSH. My vertebrae feel rearranged.
This was definitely not covered inPrinceton’s Advanced Takedown Techniques.
She scrambles free.Not on my watch.
Pure reflex takes over. My arm shoots out like a spring-loaded trap, fingers latching around an ankle mid-stride. I feel leather, a boot, and then—
WHAM!
She hits the grass face-first with a satisfyingOOF.
“Miss, are you okay?” I wheeze, my voice barely recognizable.
“You call that a takedown?”
She wriggles, trying to escape. I yank hard, pulling her across the grass as if I’m reeling in an alligator.
She’s fast. I tighten my grip. She kicks back viciously, catching me square in the stomach. I groan, but I don’t let go.
No, Iclamp down harder.
I haul her leg toward me, crawling up her body like a deranged octopus, and manage to lock my own legs around hers in a perfect body scissor hold. Her back is pressed against my chest. I’m a human pretzel with my arms wrapped around her torso.
We’re a twisted, breathing, cursing mess in the damp grass.
She’s still fighting dirty. Bucking. Twisting. Throwing elbows.
“GET. OFF!”
“SECURITY!” I yell out.
Nothing.Where the hell is everyone?
An arm slips free. A small victory for her. A tactical error for me.
“Hey, asshole!” the female voice shouts. “Take your hands off my boobs, perv!”
And then—
CRACK!
Her elbow connects with laser-guided precision to my groin.
Holy mother of—
White-hot agony explodes through my body. I’m not sure if I’m screaming out loud or if it’s just inside my head. Either way, the universe tilts sideways, and I see every bad decision that led me to this moment.
This gala? Bad call.
Impromptu wrestling? Bad call.
Chasing some lunatic intruder through my mother’s estate? Extremely bad call.
I roll to my side in the fetal position, the cool grass against my cheek providing little comfort for the inferno raging below my belt. Through tear-blurred vision, I see the intruder scramble up, poised to sprint away.
