Page 152 of Nash Falls
Rhett collapsed to the asphalt struggling to breathe while Fixx screamed.
“Okay, I think you made your point.”
They all turned to look at Nash, as he stepped from the edge of the deeper darkness and into their view. Nash held the baton out of sight while he eyed the four men and thought through his possible tactics and strategies, as Shock and Jackson had instructed him. This would be the second time he would deploy his new skills for real, but the two jerks back in the bar hadn’t been wielding bats and knives. Still, there were always ways to overcome challenges if you stuck to what you had been trained to do, and allowed some latitude for any surprises that might crop up.
“Who are you,hotshot?” the same man, and the clear leader of the foursome, called out. He was nearly as tall as Nash, in his late forties, and overly bulky. When he moved, he did so jerkily. Bad hips and a bum right knee, Nash concluded. The man to his right was far shorter and muscle-bound. That would impede his flexibility and adaptability in close-quarter situations. The last two men were carbon copies of the other, six feet lean, around twenty-five, and they moved with catlike grace and power. They were also the ones armed with knives. They might pose a greater challenge than the other pair, Nash concluded, as, on a nod from the leader, they headed toward him.
Nash replied, “Good Samaritan. I suggest you get back in your van and head on.”
“Four against one, dipshit,” said one of the young men advancing on Nash.
Well, it’s not four on one anymore, because you just separatedyourself from the wolf pack. And I thank you in advance for your overconfidence.
When the pair were close enough they both held up their knives in a threatening manner. The same one said, “Where you wanna be cut—”
The one rule Shock had drilled into him above all others wasDon’t waste time jawin’. Just fucken do it while they be gabbin’ showin’ off how tough they are.
Nash smashed the first man in the kneecap with the baton and then jacked him with a punishing palm strike to the nose that knocked him out. As the man fell backward Nash whipped the baton around and took out the other man’s knife, and hand, at the same time. Howling with pain, the injured man bent over and got Nash’s size-twelve boot in his throat for his trouble. He stumbled backward gagging, and Nash helped him along with a sharp, direct punch to his sternum and another punch to his jaw. The man’s eyes rolled up in his head and he collapsed into a deep sleep.
Two down for the count. Nash slowly advanced on the remaining twin problems.
Dollars to donuts they are going to do the stupid thing and rush me when they should use Rhett and Elaine as pawns to make me drop my weapon, or leave.
They rushed him.
The bat swung at Nash’s head, but he was no longer there. The man with the bad hips and bum right knee stumbled awkwardly past him. Nash hooked the man’s left leg with the baton, lifting it off the ground, and then swung around and used his boot heel to stomp the man’s Achilles, driving it far beyond all tearing points. The man cried out and went down, clutching at his limb and moaning.
Nash eyed his remaining opponent, who was brandishing the bat but looking increasingly frantic, since he was the lastobstaclestanding.
“I’ll make a deal with you,” said Nash quietly. “I won’t beat your brains out if you collect your friends, load them in the van, and drive away.” He held up the baton. “So what will it be? Three… two…”
The man dropped the bat. “Okay, okay, shit.”
Nash helped the man load his injured and/or unconscious comrades into the van, and then watched as they drove off.
Rhett, who had recovered from being gutted by the bat, hurried over to Nash, “Jesus, man, how can I ever thank you? You saved my butt.”
Fixx came up and put her arm through Rhett’s. “Ourbutts.”
Nash noted that neither of them showed any hint of recognition toward him.
“Glad I could help,” Nash said in the low, slow, throaty drawl he had adopted as his new manner of speech.
“Seriously, can I pay you? You deserve it. That was amazing.”
“Not necessary. I was just helping out folks who needed it.”
“How did you learn to do all that stuff?” asked Fixx.
“I’m in the private security business. High-net-worth individuals who need protection.” He eyed the Porsche and then Rhett. “I don’t know you, mister, but I would advise you to get some professional folks covering your six in case something like this happens again.”
“My father had a team, but I let them go after he died. They were loyal to him, you understand.”
“I understand.”
“I was thinking about hiring a new team. I just haven’t made a decision yet.”
“Well, be extra careful until you get a new team on board.” He started to walk off.
