He didn’t wait for an answer before disappearing back into the bar. The men on the video began to move for the front door, and Eva’s nerves started to crackle under her skin, her breath racing.
The bar door groaning and squeaked as it opened, the men paying no attention to the fact that the open sign remained dark. The tiny hope that Eva had that maybe they were just customers dissipated as she listened to footsteps shuffle in. At first she heard what sounded like casual, friendly conversation between the men entering, like they were trying to play it off as if everything was normal. There was something unsettling about that for her.
Will’s voice came from the bar room next, somehow both forceful and quiet. “State your business here.”
The buzz of conversation stopped and the bar door slapped closed on its doorjamb. The song on the jukebox faded out before changing over to Three Dog Night.
“Ah, this must be the pendejo I’ve heard so much about,” said a Spanish-accented voice. “What happened to the civilized gentlemen, eh? What happened to those days?”
“State your business or get the fuck out. We’re closed.” Will’s voice was louder now, still firm.
The tension in her little room was suffocating, and Eva couldn’t stand it. She took her shoes off again and, in her slowest, most deliberate steps, crept out of the office and against the wall that separated the bar from the employee spaces. She sank to her knees quietly and, holding her hair back with one hand, peered around the wall as far as she dared to get eyes on what was happening.
Charlie shifted nervously behind the bar, hands on the surface itself, as she was sure Will instructed him. Hidden hands didn’t inspire trust. But the shotgun was stretched out on the nearest shelf below, waiting patiently for him. In the middle of the bar room, Will stood like hero cut out of stone, or stepped out of a painting, his shoulders square and back straight. Fists fell at either side of his wide, dominating stance. The four men stood in a half-circle, watching him lazily, confidently. Except for the one in the bun, who had a sling on his arm—he glared at Will with a fiery hatred.
“Are you the owner, finally?” asked the Latino man standing next to the man with the broken arm. “All of these dramatics—this is all we asked for in the first place.”
“I’m not going to tell you again,” said Will.
“We are here to make a simple business offer,” said the man, spreading his hands out in front of him.
Will looked from him to each of the other men. “Not interested. Get the fuck out.”
“You haven’t even heard our offer.”
“This is not cartel territory. Get the fuck out.” The danger in Will’s voice made Eva shiver.
Their eyes widened at mention of the cartel, and the men exchanged looks with one another, surprised. “Ah, this little birdie knows more than he lets on,” said the leader, walking a few steps forward. “Who are you?”
Will didn’t move as he approached. “I’ll count to five. One…”
Two of the men laughed at each other. Smiles spread to the rest, including the man with the bun. The leader turned to look at them in amusement before he looked back at Will. “Are we children who did not finish our vegetables?”
“Two.”
Christ, what does he think he’s doing? Eva’s heart raced as she grasped at the wall in anxious agony.
“Three.”
“I do not think this cowboy understands what’s going on here, gentlemen,” said the Latino leader. As if that was some cue, two of the men shifted and started taking off their jackets.
Eva saw Charlie stiffen at the bar, his hands dropping down, shaking as they waited for the cue to grab the gun.
“Four.” Will still hadn’t moved. He stared at the leader, unflinching.
“I’m bored with this,” said the Latino leader. He took a few steps back and flicked his hand. The two men who had taken off their jackets revealed thick, hulking arms under tight black shirts, and now they both stalked toward Will with murderous intent.
A scream got caught in Eva’s throat as she felt her heart stop.
Underneath it all, she heard Will say quietly: “Five.”
The leader hadn’t moved back far enough. Will’s first strike sent stiff, sharp fingertips right into the gullet of his throat. Instantly the man gasped for breath through his pinched windpipe. Wooden floorboards creaked underneath him as he crashed to his knees, hands clawing at his throat, gulping in panicked fear like a fish pulled from a lake. The man in the bun started yelling in angry, rapid Spanish and bent to uselessly try and help his comrade with his one healthy arm.
The two hulking brutes didn’t stop advancing on Will. A glint of silver appeared in his left hand, and then suddenly he was leaping toward one of them, slashing as the man stopped in surprise. He yelped as Will’s knife connected with his skin, cutting through the pathetic layer of his black t-shirt and opening big, if superficial, slices of skin across his muscular chest and upper arms. The man stumbled backward, grasping at himself as blood began to gush from the wounds and drip onto the floor.
The second thug used the moment to sweep behind Will and wrap his enormous arms around him in a clenching bear hug, pinning his arms to his sides. Will howled and thrashed like a trapped wolf, kicking his legs wildly, knocking over the tall round bar tables he could reach, but unable to get any leverage.
Thinking Will was trapped, Charlie fumbled for the shotgun and brought it out from under the bar just as Will took a daring risk and brought the knife in his left hand down hard into the thigh of the man who held him, barely missing his own leg in the tussle. The man screamed and released Will, who instantly ducked and twisted away from his captor until they faced each other.
The thug pulled the knife out of his leg with a trembling, bloody hand and growled at Will like an animal as he spun it in his unsteady hand to wave around as a threat. But before he could do anything with it, Will drew back and delivered a forceful punch to his face, hard enough that Eva heard cracking and felt the jolt run up her own bones as she huddled in fright.
The thug fell hard to the floor on his back, head lolling around on the floor as he fought to stay conscious. Will stalked up to him and hovered over him ominously.
Behind the bar, Charlie anxiously swept the barrel of the shotgun back and forth. The other Latino men began to yell in protest, and the one with the slashed chest advanced on him, trying to help his fallen brother.
Charlie cocked the shotgun, and its unmistakable sound made everyone in the room freeze and take notice—everyone except Will.
Eva watched with wide, horrified eyes as Will stood over the incapacitated man with a darkness on his face she had never seen before. Will looked at him for a few heavy seconds that seemed to drag on for eternity. Then Eva saw him lifting up the shirt on his right side, where he kept his concealed handgun holster.
No… no… no…
The Latino men saw what was happening, too, and they started screaming at Will in angry voices, in both Spanish and English. With Charlie’s shotgun on them, they were helpless to intervene.
Will stared at the man as if he was in a trance, drawing the silver handgun from its holster and aiming it steadily, right at his face.
“You shouldn’t have come here,” said Will, so quietly that Eva wasn’t sure how she even heard him over the frightened din.
The protests only grew when Will pulled back the barrel and loaded the gun. Before she realized what she was doing, Eva jumped to her feet and rushed into the bar room, calling his name desperately.
“Don’t!” she screamed, her hands up as she reached him, stopping on the other side of the injured man and staring at Will. Everyone in the room turned to look at her in surprise.
“Eva, get the fuck out of here!” yelled Charlie.
She ignored him, focusing only on Will as he stared down at his victim. “Will, don’t do this! You don’t have to kill him!”