Page 66 of The Big Fix

For such big men, their speed took me by surprise. Before I could register their movement, the first man, Goldy—the one with the gold tooth—struck me with two lightning-fast hits to the chest. I did my best to counter and punch back, but the man was just too fast. I fell backward as Scarface, the second one, lashed out with a heavy kick to my ribs. I managed to block the kick with a lateral movement of my forearm, and then assumed a martial stance as the man swung at me. Deflecting the blow, I landed one of my own on the man’s jaw, connecting with such force, I felt my knuckles burn. The man fell backward and crashed into the wall.

Goldy came in again, putting the entire weight of his body behind an almost balletic pirouette roundhouse kick aimed for my face. I feinted, and he missed, hitting only air. I didn’t even see Scarface’s left leg lift and straighten to deliver a stunning ax-kick at my face, but I managed to feint again, far enough that the guy’s heel missed my face, the blow catching me on my right shoulder.

I reeled back against the wall, just in time to see Goldy closing in, one foot coming up. In that split second, my hand shot out, fingers rigid, executing a perfect knife strike to the front of the man’s throat, killing him instantly. He toppled to the floor like a marionette whose strings had been cut.

“Oh, Colonel”—Fang sounded pleased—“you are skilled. This is good. But your training means nothing. You are old and weak.”

Before I could react, Fang moved in, his right hand delivering a powerful blow to my solar plexus, knocking the breath out of me. I fell to my knees, gasping for air, my chest on fire as Fang stood back, ready to kick. It had been a strong blow, but not one meant to kill. I knew that had he wanted to, he could have shattered my sternum.

In the next instant, Fang moved in and delivered three hard kicks to my head until I was on the ground. I attempted to rise and grab his foot to ward off another blow, but I was too stunned to react with the required speed. Against a man like Fang, I was simply out of my league. His next kick sent me into a black void.

My first thought when I opened my eyes, disoriented, as consciousness came flooding back into my body, was that I completely understood what Dante was talking about when he said he directed others in the field but didn’t go anymore. It was the speed, the reflexes. My friend was smart enough to know that as we aged, we slowed. There was no shame in it. It was simply a part of life. I had to wonder how George Hunt would have fared in the basement with the three men.

A thumping pain rang through my skull. How long had I been out? Hours? A day? It must be morning by now, though I had no way of knowing for sure.

I ran my hands through my hair gently, checking for swelling, and was pleased at the lack of goose eggs or blood. I was surprised, frankly. For the second time that day, my defeat had been shocking, immediate, and total. Like all truly evil men, Fang knew what he was doing. In the dangerous world I belonged to, it was absolutely vital to keep the belief that I could overcome my adversaries. That was gone, savagely ripped away by Suwan’s ruthless enforcer.

After a full minute, I got slowly to my feet. My head was still pounding, but I found that I was steadier than expected. I took stock of the damage to my body. I could taste blood in my mouth, and my jaw hurt like hell. I knew my face was badly beaten, and one of my eyes was partly closed, but otherwise I was in one piece. Suwan’s man was a proper sadist who enjoyed his work. I knew I had only been given a mere taste of the full-course meal yet to come.

My brain went into overdrive as the memory of the last twenty-four hours returned. Whatever Suwan’s plans for Owen, the man was going to have him killed as soon as the job was done. But by that time, we’d both be either safe or dead. Dante had given me an injectable tracking device. The radioactive isotope made me traceable for seventy-two hours, after which I was in the wind. Between that and the now burned-up GPS tracker in my boot, I had faith that my team was close by. Come on, D. Any fuckin’ time now.

And once they reached us and we were safe, I needed to find out who Suwan’s boss was.

Suwan’s inner circle was made up of Chinese, which, on the face of it, meant triad—it was rare for the triads to trust anyone who wasn’t wholly Chinese. They were a dangerous group to have made an enemy of. But that didn’t add up. In all my missions with the CIA, I operated outside of the Pacific Rim. And while I had crossed paths with many criminal syndicates, the triads were not among them. Professionally and privately, I had no dealings in Asia at all.

Less than an hour later, I heard the lock being turned and the door opening. Fang came in, followed by three Chinese guards, and it didn’t take long before blackness swallowed me again.

I was woken with a bucket of cold water thrown over my body, and found myself suspended from a chain looped over a pipe in the cellar. My toes barely reached the floor. Every breath was painful, and my teeth were chattering. I was freezing, which made me realize I was running a fever. The cuts from the cat-o’-nine-tails were raw and open and oozing, and infection had set in, as evidenced from my body trying to fight it off. When the whip hit my back, I screamed. I didn’t stop screaming until I passed out.

“Try and relax.”

Someone was talking to me. I had to force myself to concentrate. After a moment, I saw the green I knew, the smile, and sighed deeply.

“Hi,” Owen said softly, close to my ear. “It’s all right. You’re with me. I’m looking after you. Just breathe.”

“I’m scared, Owen. I don’t want to leave you.”

“You’re not going to leave me,” he promised, his hand on my head. “I need you to sit up a bit so you can drink some water.”

Just the thought of doing that was overwhelming, but I tried. The moment I did, pain shot through my back and sides, and I found I couldn’t sit, and neither could I stay awake.

When I came around again, I became aware of Owen holding me. We were alone in the dungeon. I had no idea how long I’d been there, but I instantly remembered the violence done to me and the danger we were still in.

“Just don’t try to move for a minute,” Owen soothed me, stroking my hair. “I can’t imagine what you’ve been going through…but I’m really glad to see you.”

“How long was I away from you?” My throat was so dry.

“Almost three days.”

My seventy-two hours were up. If the cavalry wasn’t close, that was it.

“The men who dragged you in here and threw you down were quite surprised your jaw’s not broken. Apparently, as I always suspected, you have a hard head.”

I smiled, and it hurt my split lip. “Don’t make me laugh. It could kill me.”

“Noted,” he replied gently.

It was so good just to lie there and look up at him.