“Hush, now,” Dark Angel says in a tone one would use on a child. “Go,” he orders Gary. When he takes another step, Dark Angel gets between us. “But before you have fun with her, you’re gonna have some fun with me.”
Gary blanches when the gun is once again pulled out and pressed to his temple.
“You win, you get her,” Dark Angel says.
“What happens if I lose?” Gary asks.
“If?” Dark Angel almost laughs. “I’ll let you throw the first punch, but only because I like your confidence. We’ll get to the fighting part of the game in a minute.” He rotates the cylinder of the gun. “If you survive.” He lets out another crazy laugh.
I want to beg him to let us go. At best, I don’t want to be a witness to a murder. At worst, I don’t want me or my friends to be casualties of this maniac.
“How about a little Russian roulette?” the man taunts.
Gary starts to cry like a toddler.
Dark Angel rotates the cylinder again. “Ready?”
“Please,” Gary croaks.
To my relief, Dark Angel puts the gun back in his waistband, but I don’t trust his actions. This man likes to play games.
“I’m feeling generous,” Dark Angel announces. “Besides, I don’t want to get your blood or brain on my shirt.” He runs his hand over the material. He’d be sexy if he weren’t a complete psycho. “I won’t say it more than once. Let’s get this party started. Hit me.”
Before the words are out of his mouth, Gary throws a punch. Dark Angel’s huge hand covers the other man’s hand and twists it.
Gary takes two steps back before he collides with two of the guards.
Dark Angel gestures for the guard holding the drink to come closer. “Drink it,” he orders my almost assailant. When heshakes his head, Dark Angel grabs him by the back of his neck. “I said drink it,” he orders through clenched teeth. He snatches the cocktail and shoves the glass to his lips. “Just like you wanted her to. Drink it or I’ll rip out your throat with my bare hands.”
The other man drinks until half of the liquid remains. Dark Angel yanks the glass away, and the guy stumbles back. A security guard catches him and holds him upright.
“You,” Dark Angel says, pointing at another one of the guys. “I saved some for his accomplice.” He waves the glass in the air.
The other guy has lost all color.
Dark Angel shoves the glass in his face. The man makes no moves to take it.
“Don’t piss me off,” Dark Angel warns.
The other guy visibly shakes, and even in the dark, I can see a coat of sweat on his forehead and upper lip.
“Five. Four. Three. Two.” Dark Angel stops counting. “If I get to one, it won’t be good for you.”
He presses the glass to the man’s lips, and he swallows the rest of the drink. Dark Angel slams the glass to the ground, and it shatters.
“I might make you two eat that glass,” he says to the other guys.
One now has a visible urine stain on the front of his pants.
“Now,” he says, turning back to the first guy. “Come on. Throw another punch, but not a pussy attempt like you did before. Man up.”
He turns his back, cracks his neck, and points to his stomach. “Right here.” Then he playfully punches his chin. “Or here.”
The next few seconds are a flurry. If I had blinked, I would have missed it. The man I was dancing with starts to move, but Dark Angel’s fist connects with his face. His hit propels the other man off his feet. He crumbles to the ground a few feet away.
Then, he punches the second guy in the stomach. This hit wasn’t as brutal as the first, but the man falls to his knees.
“Get lost,” he says, and the two other guys run away.
