"What girl?"
"Don't play games. Nora Hayes. Where is she?"
"Never heard of her."
Buzz Cut smiles. It doesn't reach his eyes. "You're outnumbered. Outgunned. I've got nine more men in this building and three more outside. You really want to die for some woman you just met?"
"Die?" I shift my weight. "Nobody said anything about dying."
"Then put down the bat and tell us where she is. We take her, we leave, you never hear from us again."
Tempting. If I was someone else. Someone who didn't come back from war with pieces missing. Someone who could walk away from a terrified woman hiding in the next room.
But I'm not someone else.
"Counterproposal," I say. "You leave. Now. Walk out that door and don't come back. And I don't break every bone in your body before my friends arrive."
Buzz Cut laughs. Actually laughs. "Your friends?"
"Savage Riders MC. They'll be here in—" I check my mental clock, "—three and a half minutes. You want to be here when they show up?"
That gets a reaction. Buzz Cut's smile falters. The men behind him shift.
They've heard of the Riders. Good.
"You're bluffing," Buzz Cut says. But he doesn't sound certain.
"Am I?"
We stare at each other. Him with his gun. Me with my bat. Two men who know violence intimately, deciding if this is worth it.
Then I hear it. Engines. Distant but getting closer. The deep rumble of motorcycles. A lot of them. Buzz Cut hears it too. His jaw tightens.
"Last chance," I tell him. "Leave or stay. But choose fast."
He chooses.
"Get her," he snaps to his men.
They move.
I move faster.
The bat catches the first one in the ribs. I don't hold back. Don't pull the swing. Full force, full commitment. Something cracks, bone or equipment, doesn't matter. He goes down hard.
The second one is smarter. Tries to grab the bat instead of me. I let him. Use his momentum against him. Yank him forward and drive my knee into his face. Cartilage crumples. Blood spray. He drops.
Two down.
The third one gets his gun up. Aims at me.
I'm already moving. Close the distance before he can fire. Grab his wrist, force the weapon toward the ceiling. It goes off, deafening in the enclosed space. Plaster rains down. I headbutt him. His nose explodes. I take the gun before he hits the ground.
Three down.
Buzz Cut is backing up. Shouting into a radio. "We need backup up here! Now!"
The engines are louder now. Right outside.
