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“Jeff,” Peters yelled. “No!”
An ugly smile formed on Jeff’s face. “You’re going to die,” he told Seth and lunged, tackling him.
The two men hit the mat. Jeff sat on Seth’s stomach, making it hard for him to breathe. Man, this guy must weigh at least 300 pounds.
Jeff’s beefy hands wrapped around Seth’s throat and squeezed.
He shot his fisted hands between Jeff’s arms and slammed them into the big man’s locked elbows. When Jeff lost his balance and pitched forward, Seth wrapped one arm around his neck, hooked a finger in the side of Jeff’s mouth, and yanked his head around. He bucked his hip, threw Jeff off him, and followed him over until Seth was on top. Four punches later, his opponent was out.
Seth scrambled to his feet and glanced around the mat to see if his teammates needed a hand. All of them had taken down at least one of their opponents, most of them both.
He went to Teagan whose attention was still locked on Jerry and his partner, currently sprawled at her feet, and wrapped his hand around hers. “You okay?” he murmured.
“Peachy. That was the most fun I’ve had in a while. You?”
Fun. He shook his head, smiling. Seth knew many things that were more fun than a fight, but if she enjoyed the challenge, he’d let her enjoy the moment. “I’m fine. Noah, finish him off. We have other things to do this morning.”
“Yeah, yeah.” His partner went with a series of fast punches, ending with a kick to his opponent’s groin. The man flew back several feet and didn’t move.
The rest of his team finished their fights and stepped back from their fallen opponents.
Peters stepped onto the mat. “Congratulations, Seth. You and your team are the victors of this fight. You have one last thing to do before this exercise is finished. Kill your opponents.”
The enforcers, conscious and stirring, froze, expressions of horror on their faces. Several members of the audience gasped.
Was Peters nuts? No way was Seth going to murder fourteen men in cold blood. This wasn’t a war zone. “Forget it,” he said, voice flat.
“What did you say?” Peters snapped.
“You heard me. I’m not murdering your enforcers in cold blood. They’ve been defeated. We proved our point. No one should die when you need every man in your militia. They’re your people. I thought you valued the loyalty of your men as much as I value my team. Was I wrong about that?”
Peters flicked a glare at Richardson before returning his attention to Seth. “It’s obvious the enforcers are not well trained. Of what use are they to me?”
Many of the enforcers stood, some with the help of Seth’s teammates. The fourteen men were pale and sweating, afraid they would die in the next few minutes.
“They’re loyal, willing, and already on board with your goals. Beyond those important qualities, anyone can be trained.”
“Will you disobey my orders when it comes to the enemy as well, Dixon?”
Got him. “These men aren’t the enemy. They’re now our teammates. We’ll train them, but we won’t murder them. If you want them dead, kill them yourself.”
“No.” Richardson moved toward Peters, hands clenched. “You’re not killing them. These are good men. They don’t deserve to die for having an off day.”
Seth kept his expression blank. An off day? What a joke. The men’s lack of skills directly resulted from Richardson’s poor training regimen. This wasn’t an off day. This was lack of discipline and training, and those problems rested squarely on Richardson’s shoulders.
“They’re weak. Only the strong survive in war,” Peters snapped.
“They survived, and this isn’t the fight we need to win.” He came nose to nose with his partner. “We can’t have dissension in the ranks. Killing these men would destroy the camaraderie we’re trying to build. Is that what you want?”
Silence reigned for one minute, then two. Peters inclined his head, conceding the point and signaling an end to the standoff.
Thank God. Seth couldn’t murder men who weren’t threatening him or his teammates. If that was the price of mission success, he’d call in the feds and declare the mission a failure. Murdering men in cold blood was a hard no for him. Serve and protect? Absolutely. Murder? Never.
“Very well,” Peters said, voice soft. “I’ll let it slide. This time. Their failure is yours, my friend. Even the female newcomers beat two of your enforcers each. Perhaps it’s time to turn over the training of the enforcers to someone more qualified to handle it. Give the responsibility to Dixon.”
Richardson scowled. “The enforcers and the guards are mine, as well as the day-to-day logistics of the camp’s inner workings.” His voice lowered. “If you paid more attention to something other than coercing a woman to warm your bed every night and having those not so secret closed-door meetings while I’m tied up with other things, I wouldn’t be working twenty hours a day.”
Peters’ eyes glittered. “It’s lucky for you I had the foresight to recruit Dixon’s team. As of right now, they’re my personal enforcement team. If you want your own team, choose someof these losers to protect you. In fact, if you’re wise, you’ll ask Dixon to train your people. Might be the only way you’ll survive the coming war.”