Page 83 of Micah
I slip inside his reach and bury three rapid punches into his ribs.
One.
Two.
Three.
Each one lands exactly where I want it.
Floating ribs.
Liver.
Solar plexus.
His breath leaves him in one explosive grunt.
I finish with an uppercut that snaps his head back.
Blood sprays across the bottles behind the bar.
He stumbles.
Doesn’t fall.
Tough bastard.
That’s fine. I’ve dealt with tough bastards before.
I grab the back of his neck and drive his face into the bar top.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Glasses shatter.
His body finally goes limp.
Movement.
To my left.
It’s Scarface.
The one who touched Sloane.
And he still has hold of her.
His hand slides from her face to her shoulder as he shoves her to the side.
Wrong move.
It’s absolutely the wrong fucking move.
Because when I see her wince as her side hits the bar?
