I look at the guy again as I tense my jaw muscles, controlling my emotions. I take a deep breath and let it out heavily. I don’t really have much choice.
“Okay, let’s talk,” I say. “Just leave these people alone, yeah?”
“No problem,” he replies with a smile, letting his jacket fall back into place, covering his gun.
“Wanna come into the back?” I ask.
“Sure,” he replies, smiling like he knows he’s already won.
I look over at Tori again, who silently asks me if I’m okay. I nod back and point to the bar, signaling I need her to watch it for a few minutes. She nods and walks over. By the door, Styx is standing, on edge, and silently staring at the three men. I see him and click my fingers, so he turns his attention to me.
“Easy boy… it’s alright.”
He looks at me silently, tilting his head questioningly to one side, like only dogs can do, and then turns away, sitting back down by the door, all the while keeping one eye on the three men, as if to make a point of telling me he doesn’t care if I say it’s alright, his spider sense is tingling, too.
He’s a good dog.
The men walk around the bar and step into the back, and I follow. I stand just inside the doorway, making sure I keep my body between these guys and my customers.
They stand in front of me, in a loose semi-circle, their backs to the door leading up to my apartment. The men on the either side stand like they’re trying to intimidate me — one hand holding the other in front of them, legs shoulder-width apart. The guy in the middle’s more relaxed, with one hand in his pocket, the other loose by his side.
I say, “So talk.”
“My employers have asked me to come and speak with you,” he begins. “They are very interested in offering you a position within our organization. They feel you could be a tremendous asset to us and our cause.”
I shake my head. “No, thanks. I already have a job, which I enjoy. Sorry you boys wasted your trip.”
I step to one side, gesturing to the door to signal the conversation’s over, as far as I’m concerned, and it’s time for them to leave.
He smiles, almost apologetically. “Adrian, my employers are not people you say no to. It is a great honor to be chosen to work for them.”
As I feel the tension slowly building, I sigh and briefly massage my forehead with both hands.
“Let me be honest, guys. You blew it the moment you said the words our and cause. I’m not that guy anymore. And even if I was, I’m not, and never have been, a terrorist, or an extremist, or whatever it is that you are. You should be grateful I’m not that guy, because if I was, you’d all be dead by now. I’m telling you, we’re done here. Leave my bar and don’t come back. If your employer has a problem with that, he can come here himself and take it up with me, and I’ll happily tell him the same thing.”
The men on either side of him step forward.
The man in the middle says, “At best, you are a relic of an old world, Adrian. You should get with the times. Big talk means nothing anymore. We feel your experience would be beneficial to us, but make no mistake — you’re not considered a threat in any way. You will come with us, right now, or we’ll shoot you.”
He moves his jacket to reveal his gun again.
Well, this went south pretty quick, didn’t it? I never was much good at talking my way out of a situation. That was always Josh’s forte. I tend to be slightly more aggressive in my approach to delicate situations.
The guy on my right takes another step forward, and I feel my brain revert to survival mode. Without a second thought, I step forward to meet him, swinging my left leg low and kicking the outside of his right knee, hard. He loses his balance and I throw a hard, straight right punch, hitting him across the face and dropping him to the floor. He’s not out, but he’s hurting.
The guy on my left then comes at me, his arms already raised. I react a second too slow, and he grips me with both hands around the throat.
I’m definitely out of practice…
I lean my head back and bring my arms up, slamming them down on his elbows, forcefully bending his arms, which loosens his grip. As he does, I push him away and immediately step toward him, launching a hard kick to his stomach. He doubles over, the wind knocked out of him. I bring my right elbow down hard on the back of his exposed head, and he joins his friend on the floor. Again, not quite unconscious, but he won’t be getting up for a few minutes.
The middle guy has his gun drawn, aimed at me, as I turn to him. I knock his right arm up as he fires, causing the bullet to fire into the ceiling. I hear gasps of shock and concern from the bar, followed by the scrambling of people trying to get outside. I hope Tori’s one of them…
I grab his wrist with my left hand, twisting it away from him. He has no choice but to lean with it, so it doesn’t break, and he drops his gun. I kick it away, then jab him twice in the face. I switch hands and twist his arm back across him with my right, straightening it out and turning it, so his elbow is facing me. Without warning, I smash my left forearm down and dislocate it. He screams in agony as he crumples to the floor, his elbow hanging loose at an unnatural angle.
I quickly move to the two guys already down and drag them both up by the back of their necks, marching them out to the bar. Styx sees me and is up straight away, snarling viciously.
Around me, people are looking on, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, but I ignore them. They knew I didn’t stand for any trouble in my bar, but I’m not sure they thought I could take out three guys at once.
Well, now they know.
I throw them both to the floor, just in front of the saloon doors. Styx circles them, barking wildly. “Keep ’em there, boy. Don’t hurt ’em.”
I walk back around the bar, avoiding the surprised look on Tori’s face. I retrieve the gun and aim it at the middle guy. “Get up,” I say.
He struggles to his feet and stumbles out into the bar, holding his broken arm close to his body. I follow, keeping the gun on him the whole time. The other two haven’t moved — Styx is doing a great job of keeping them in check. I push the middle guy over to them, and he falls.
I release the magazine from the gun, letting it fall to the floor. I eject the round from the chamber, which I catch and drop next to the magazine. Finally, I throw the empty gun over to them, as a message.
“Leave now, while you still got the use of your legs. Tell whoever it is that sent you to forget about me. Forget about Devil’s Spring… Next person that comes here looking for trouble leaves in a body bag.”
I cross my arms and glare at them until they stand. The two bodyguards hold the diplomat up.
“You’re making a big mistake,” says the man with the broken arm.
“Like I haven’t heard that before?” I reply. I look at Styx. “Show ’em the door, boy.”
The fur on his back rises, and he bares his teeth, snarling and barking, rounding them up like he’s herding sheep. He chases them out of the bar, returning moments later, much calmer. He pads over to Tori and rubs his head on her leg before walking over to and sitting down next to me.
I glance around the place. Everyone’s staring at me, waiting for an explanation. Tori walks over and throws her arms around me.
“You okay?” she whispers.
“Never better,” I reply, smiling.