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“This area is closed for guests. You both shouldn’t be here,” one of the men says. Tattoos are inked all over his neck to his bald head.
I let out a sheepish chuckle, my arm landing around Boone's neck and slapping his chest. “My boy here had a little too much to drink. I was looking for the restroom.”
Boone slouches over slightly, playing the part.
The other bodyguard doesn't seem to be falling for it from the way his brows furrow deep with a squint. “There's a sign on each corner and wall stating the direction of the bathroom.” He steps closer. “So, either you're completely stupid and can’t read or you're lying.”
My brow raises at his courage. Tatted-neck man and one with a sharp chin, land their hands on their guns. A dangerous thrill creeps into my chest, my facade diminishing.
Three.
His eyes land on the door. “Step aside.”
“I'd rather not,” I say.
Two.
Boone grunts, shifting.
“I said, step. The fuck. Aside.”
I slowly release Boone. The fire that sparked earlier burns bright, creating flames.
“Are you sure?”
He looks over at me with confusion, which morphs into anger.
“Move or you’re dead.” His gun is now pointed at me. That shit doesn’t fear me. I only smirk and step to the side. Boone leans on the wall, still pretending he's a drunk idiot.
The other two go up behind him as the first guy twists the handle, flinging it open. I grin at Boone, who stands up straight with ease. Inside the room is presenting four other men. Dead.
I look over at Boone with a ‘damn’ look.
“Kill them—” Before he barks his orders, we rush into them, kicking the other two men further in the room and slamming the door shut. They topple over, stumbling from our onslaught. We both snatch the guns from the men who never got a chance to draw their weapons, shooting them in the head before taking aim at the one in charge.
He stands back up with his gun, a sly grin on his face. The vein on his bald head protruding like it’s ready to bust. “Pussies.”
My head cocks, the flame bursting, causing a combustion. “Alright, we’ll do this fair.” I smile, like a psycho taking his pill and never swallowing it.
The man gives an impressed smirk. Excitement streams through me. Finally, someone who actually has balls. Unfortunately, he won’t have them for long.
I toss the gun to the side. He looks at it bewildered, then his gun falls, too. Boone lets out a breath, walking to the seat off to the side, and sits down.
I remove my jacket, setting it on the doorknob, then I roll up my sleeves.
My balled fist raised to my chin. My stance ready for anything. He doesn't wait; he flies at me with fast punches, eager to connect one to my face. I block them, my body shifting to the side before uppercutting him in the stomach hard enough to break his ribs, then smashing another into his jaw. He grunts out, blood spraying everywhere. I quickly back away from it. Today is one of the days I don’t need blood on me. Not yet.
“Come on, fight me,” I growl, moving around with my fist raised again.
He leans back up, wiping the crimson from his gushing mouth. He lunged back at me, connecting a fist to the side of my rib, then to my stomach. It nearly takes my breath out. I only laugh. “There we go. I like that.”
“I hope you like dying,” he snarls, coming back to me, but I’m quicker. I double punch him in the nose and again in his bruised ribs before swinging around, choking him. He heaves, twisting as much as he can, but he only gets me more excited.
“Thank you.” I breathe harshly. “I enjoy a good fight.” I picture him as Victor, and it only makes me grip even harder as his body flails and writhes. “Wish it would have lasted longer.” His nails claw at my arms. Although his size is large, he’s still no match for this particular move. I squeeze until I hear his windpipe snap. Then, and only then, I’m satisfied. I drop his body, my heart rate harsh against my chest. I lean my head back, closing my eyes. That was enjoyable. I ball up my hands, stretching my neck, the bones cracking, giving a release of pressure.
I open up, leaning down to wipe my hand on the dead man’s pants before standing back up and facing Boone, who deadpans. “What.” I roll my sleeves back down.
“Crazy fucker,” Boone grumbles, standing with a head shake before grabbing my jacket off the knob and tossing it to me.