He swings at me, doing a right and left hook combo, and when I move out of the way of one hand, the other clips me. My head snaps back, the feel of his bones crunching on my chin sounding more painful than the actual impact.
I laugh manically. I’m a sick SOB, and I want him to know that he’s no match for me.
I know it.
He knows it.
But it doesn’t stop him from coming at me again, swinging like a wild man without any direction. Men like him rarely use their fists. They choose to keep their hands clean like Hassan. Others do their dirty work or else they use a weapon. Hands are too close. Close would expose his weaknesses, and I plan to exploit every one of them.
I raise my fist, going in for a blow that I know will knock him on his ass, when Hassan comes into view behind Grayson. “Hold it right there.” He’s holding a gun, pointing it right at me.
“Hassan,” I say, pleading to buy some time.
If this is the end, so be it, but I’m not going down without a fight. I step forward and Grayson sucker-punches me in the side. I flinch, but I don’t fall. “Let’s talk about this,” I say to Hassan through gritted teeth, winded slightly from Grayson’s bitch punch.
Hassan’s eyes narrow and he steps forward, ignoring Kennedy. “There’s nothing to talk about, Nix. If you’re trying to save her, then you’re working with her.”
I glance at her, and she’s inching slowly behind Hassan. No one’s paying attention to her. Their eyes are only on me, and I’ll do anything to keep it that way, even if it means getting shot.
I drop my hands to my sides and straighten my back, finally filling my lungs with air. “You’ve known me for ten fuckin’ years, Hassan. You know exactly who I am.”
“You fucked her,” he says, motioning toward Kennedy with his head.
At least, it’s where Kennedy was when he first pointed the gun at me. But no one has turned around. She’s now about two feet behind Hassan, moving slowly but quietly. One thing I know about her is that she can fight. When she and I sparred in my apartment, she knocked me on my ass and could’ve taken me. For someone so small, she’s skilled. Whoever trained her did a fan-fucking-tastic job.
I should be scared. I should be a lot of things right now. There’s a gun pointed at me, the woman I love is half naked and inching behind a psychopath, and then there’s Grayson, ready to take over if Hassan fucks up. Most men would be pissing their pants by now. But I’m not most men, and Kennedy isn’t like other women.
“I fucked her,” I admit willingly and can’t help but give him a shit-eating grin. “Fuckin’ goooood pussy too, Hassan.”
He walks forward, shaking the gun in my direction. The veins near his temples are popping out. “You’re an asshole, Nix. You deserve to die just as much as she does. But I’m going to make it a slow death. Maybe a blow to the stomach.” He licks his lips, slowly dragging his tongue across his bottom lip. “You can watch me enjoying her good pussy.”
The dumbfuck is actually debating where he’s going to shoot me.I want to roll my eyes and tell him to get it over with already, but then Kennedy’s close enough that I know she’s going to…
And she does. She swings her leg out, knocking Hassan right on his ass. The gun goes off, but it’s pointed at the ceiling. He falls to the floor, and Kennedy follows. Before he has a chance to get his bearings, Kennedy has her legs wrapped around his neck.
Grayson’s caught off guard by the entire thing. I knew it was coming, but Kennedy’s strength and acrobatics even shock the shit out of me. Grayson’s eyes sweep to me, and before he has a chance to move, I’m on him.
The force at which my body collides with his knocks him backward. He trips and falls, but I go with him. I’m sitting on him, wrapping my hands around his neck and squeezing with so much strength that it doesn’t take long for his face to turn red and the blood vessels near his eyes to start bursting. His hands are clawing at my fingers, and his legs are kicking against the floor.
I don’t know what’s going on with Hassan and Kennedy. I’m too busy choking the life out of Grayson, but since I haven’t been shot in the head yet, I assume she got Hassan under control. My body is on autopilot, and nothing will get my hands off Grayson’s neck except him gasping for his last breath and finally succumbing to his fate.
His mouth opens and he’s trying to suck in air, but I squeeze harder, bored to death with this shit and growing impatient. His windpipe collapses under my grip, the crunch barely fazing me as he takes his last breath.
Still on top of him, straddling his dead corpse, I finally look over toward Kennedy and Hassan. He’s motionless in between her legs.
“He alive?” I ask and take a minute to survey the damage.
“Nope,” she says, lying on her side with her hands still bound behind her back.
Fuck.She choked him to death with her legs?
I’m shocked. More shocked by her ability than the fact that I just murdered a man with my bare hands.
The woman I love, the sweet little thing I once thought she was, killed a man with her hands tied behind her back. I let that sink in as I climb to my feet and lift her into a seated position.
“Check him to be sure,” she tells me as I’m reaching behind her to untie her hands.
I do as she asks, because I should’ve done that first. I press two fingers to his throat, and there’s nothing. “You killed him?” It sounds more like a question because I’m still gobsmacked.
