Smith tried not to laugh. Showing amusement would only encourage the Navy idiot.
No-neck looked confused, and Finley slipped by him to grab a box.
Smith did his best to be professional. “Buddy, you’re blocking the door. We need to get done so we can get out of everyone’s way.”
The guy took another step forward. “Tell you what. Me and my bros are gonna come in here and see what we need. We’ll take a few boxes off your hands. Maybe a TV or stereo. Then you guys can have all the time you want.” He whistled and two of his friends appeared from a door down the hall. Neither looked too intelligent.
From what Smith could tell, they didn’t carry weapons. The shorter blond man looked more pudgy than muscular. His dark-haired friend had muscle but walked stiffly, as if injured or recovering from an injury. Both men looked up to no good, though, and they backed up their friend with mean smiles.
Smith grinned back. “Thanks so much for this,” he said with all sincerity to No-neck. He turned and spoke to Finley behind him with a nervous looking Mr. Chen. “Finley, can you help Mr. Chen get the rest of the stuff staged in the hall and living room? I have something to take care of.”
“Need help?”
“Nah. But lock up, would you?” He shoved No-neck back as he stepped forward into the hall. The door locked behind him. “Now, I’m warning you. I’m unarmed, just here to do a job for Mr. Chen.” He cracked his knuckles and rotated his shoulders, feeing the adrenaline surge. It had beensolong since he’d gotten to break something.
He laughed. “Okay, which fuckhead goes first? You gotta hit me though. Then I can claim self-defense when I end you.”
The guys behind No-neck looked at each other then turned and walked away. Crap. “Hey, No-neck. Your pussy girlfriends left.” That would set the guy off.
Smith wasn’t wrong. The bulky man aimed for Smith’s face, but Smith ducked back.
“The gut. Go for my stomach.”
No-neck frowned but aimed at Smith’s stomach. Smith tightened his core and stepped back to mitigate the blow. It packed little enough punch. But the impact made it okay to hit back.
A minute later, the idiot lay on the floor with a broken nose and clutching his dick. Smith hadn’t broken a sweat. He waited, praying for someone with balls to join in. No one did.
The bully on the block lay in agony, his groupies apparently too scared to make a move with their illustrious leader on the floor. Smith leaned down to grab the collar of No-neck’s sweatshirt and pulled the jerk down the hall.
“Which one is yours?”
“17,” the guy wheezed, pulling at his sweatshirt to keep it from choking him.
Smith turned to see Finley once again carrying boxes toward the elevator, Mr. Chen grinning widely behind him.
Finley looked at him and shook his head. “Show off.” The pair disappeared into the elevator.
Once in front of Unit 17, Smith banged on the door.
A sullen teenager answered it. “Yeah?”
The kid looked down the man on the ground and started laughing.
“He yours?” Smith asked.
“Unfortunately. DNA can be a bitch.”
Smith smothered a laugh. “Well, keep him locked up before he hurts himself. He ran into a door by Mr. Chen’s. It’s pretty slippery down there.”
The kid gave him a thumbs up before glaring down at his…father? Brother? Something. “Yo, Ma,” he yelled over his shoulder, then shot a grin at Smith. “Petey tripped in the hallway and broke his nose.” The kid left the door open but made no move to help Petey inside. “Thanks, dude.”
Smith shrugged and left. A glance behind him showed Petey crawling into the apartment. Then the door slammed closed.
He passed another few doors until one opened, showing a little girl. She carried a stuffed dog and wore a tiara over rows of braids tied back with light blue fasteners. “Hello.”
He stopped, a sucker for kids. “Hey. I like your dog.”
“This is Pup-pup. Ruff, ruff.” She made the dog pretend lick his leg.
