The intruder kicked the weapon away, then balled his hands up into Russell’s shirt.
“I can’t get a clear shot without hitting you,” Clyde said, shining his light on both men. He moved the heater around, trying to get a bead on the man.
Russell slammed the flashlight into the side of the man’s skull and punched him in the gut with his other balled fist. The blow rattled the man, knocking him off balance. A gasp fled his mouth through the mask as he bent over.
Clyde lowered his weapon, and rushed to Russell’s aide. His heavy footsteps clomped across the floor.
The man shook his head as Russell took another swing with the flashlight at the side of his skull. He knocked Russell’s arm away, dislodging the light from Russell’s hand.
The flashlight bounced off the floor and rolled away. The beam played over the walls, furniture, and Clyde who closed in on the both of them.
Russell threw an arching right hook.
The black clad man slugged him in the gut, then punched his face.
Russell’s head snapped back. His legs weakened. He stumbled backward as the world spun, and he struggled to keep his balance.
Clyde swung his arm wielding the pistol at the man.
The intruder grabbed his wrist and hammered his ribs with two hard punches.
A gasp left Clyde’s mouth, and he doubled over. He struggled to breathe for a moment. He leaned away, and jerked at his arm, trying to get it free.
Russell shook his head, and held both arms out to either side of him to stabilize his balance and to keep the ground from rushing him. Tears swelled in both eyes, distorting his vision. He blinked hard, forcing the wetness in both sockets out through the tiny slits at the bottom of both lids.
Clyde huffed, then a dense thud sounded from the hallway. Another clatter played off the floor near the dueling men.
Russell opened his eyes to the man reaching for him. He threw another wild punch that went wide, missing the man’s head.
The intruder leaned back on the heels of his boots, then grabbed Russell by the scruff of his shirt. He spun to the side, and punched Russell in the face some more. Each blow sent his head snapping back. Pain radiated in his face, and surged through his body.
The rounded edge of the bar top probed his back. The hard impact made him grimace, and his face scrunch in agony. He gritted his teeth, and tried to push the man away, but couldn’t get the leverage.
The intruder shoved the heel of his palm under Russell’s chin and pushed, stretching his neck back and over the top of the bar.
Russell reached out and felt the smooth surface of the bar. His fingers grappled for anything he could use to defend himself, and get some distance between him and the man.
A clear-glass ashtray grazed the tips of his fingers. Russell stretched his arm as far as he could, and grabbed the rounded edge. He slammed it against the side of the man’s skull.
“Ah!” The intruder removed his hand from Russell’s chin and backed away. He palmed his head and swayed.
Russell stood up straight and shook his head.
Clyde charged the man from behind, and punched him in the back, then slipped his arm under his chin. He leaned back and squeezed, choking the man. “Who the hell is this guy?”
“No clue, but we’re about to find out.” Russell dropped the ashtray, then reached for the man’s black shirt.
The intruder kicked Russell in the gut, knocking the air from his lungs. Russell rocked back on his heels, reeling from the hard blow. The intruder rammed his elbow into Clyde’s side twice, turned, then smashed the side of Clyde’s face with his elbow.
Clyde’s hold around the man’s neck lessened. His arm dropped to his side. He took a step back and cradled his battered ribs.
Russell’s midsection hurt. He struggled to breathe. His gaze flitted to the man who turned and wailed on Clyde’s face. He lurched forward, and rammed his balled fist into the man’s kidney’s. He punched him three times, grabbed the top of his tight-fitted shirt, and threw him hard against the bar.
The intruder slammed the edge with his chest.
Russell continued punishing his kidney’s. His hand throbbed with pain, but the wave of adrenaline kept him going.
The man’s legs buckled. He slouched against the bar top.
Clyde grabbed the ashtray from the floor, and smashed it over the back of his head.
Russell stopped and stepped away.
The man crumbled to the ground, then plopped over to his back.
“Jesus Christ.” Clyde wheezed, trying to catch his breath. His hand rubbed his ribs, and he dropped the ashtray to the floor. “You all right?”
Russell towered over the intruder, breathless. His chest heaved, and the muscles in his arms twitched. “Yeah. A little roughed up, but otherwise I’m good.”
Max continued barking and scratching from the murk of the hallway.
Clyde dipped his chin, and stared at the groaning man who rolled from one side to the other while palming his head. He kicked him in the back with the tip of his boot. “Serves you right, pal.”
Russell nodded in the direction of the barking canine. “Did you want to go let Max out while I keep an eye on our friend here?”
“Sure.” Clyde turned and walked toward the hallway with a slight limp and rubbing his side. He paused, bent down, and grabbed the flashlight from the floor, then vanished beyond the darkness of the hallway.
The man rolled to his stomach, pressed his hands to the floor, and pushed up to his knees.
Russell kicked him in the side, knocking the air from him. “Stay down.”
The intruder huffed, clutched his ribs, and dropped to the floor, gasping for air.
Max raced down the hallway and out into the main living area. His claws played off the floor. A low, muffled growl emitted from the agitated canine as he skirted past the furniture and galloped toward the man.
“There’s no one else back there in the rooms or bathroom that I could see.” Clyde walked out of the hallway and pointed behind him. “Looks like it was just that asshole and that’s it.”
Max sniffed around the man’s head, then down the length of his arm to the tips of his gloved fingers.
Russell strode over to the kitchen, and rummaged through one of the drawers. His hands shuffled the utensils about, making a bit of noise.
“What are you doing?” Clyde asked, befuddled.
“Grab a chair from the dining table and bring it over here.” Russell’s head tilted toward the open drawer.
“What for? Are you going to fix him a meal or something?”
Russell pulled out a meat tenderizing hammer. He held it up in front of him. “Not exactly. We’re going to ask this dirt bag some questions.”
CHAPTER SEVETEEN
RUSSELL
The intruder would talk, one way or another.
Clyde stared at the large, stainless steel hammer with wide eyes. “Oh. So, we’re going to ask that way, huh?”
Russell ran his thumb over the teeth of the side of the hammer. He probed the pointed tips with the flat part of his finger. “I don’t plan on using it. It’s just to scare him and loosen his tongue. An added incentive to not jerk us around.”
“Whatever you say.” Clyde held his hands in the air. “I mean, if you wanted to take a whack at a limb or what not, I wouldn’t object. That piece of crap did a number on both of us.”
Russell pushed the drawer shut, then made his way out of the kitchen and around to the front of the bar.
Max stood like a sentry over the man. His bushy, brown tail wagged, then stopped as he investigated the man’s scent.
Clyde grabbed one of the chairs from the dining room, and dragged it across the wooden floor. The legs scraped over the planks.
Russell took a knee next to the man and patted down the front pocket of his trousers. He grabbed the far side of his waist, and pulled him onto his side.
Max backed away and watched every move Russell made.
“It would s
eem that your buddy, Tim, might have some enemies.” Clyde positioned the chair near the motionless body. “Hell, he could’ve been here for you, I guess. That Kinnerk guy could’ve sent someone by to camp out and wait. Try to get the drop on you or something.”
Russell fished out the man’s wallet and rolled him over onto his back. “That is true. I guess we’ll find out shortly.”
Clyde shrugged. “I guess we will. He also could’ve gotten the wrong place, and we were unlucky enough to cross his path. Just spit-balling ideas.”
“Perhaps.” Russell opened the wallet and raised his hand at Clyde. “Let me see that flashlight. Oh, and can you grab something to tie him up with?”
“Here.” Clyde handed Russell his flashlight, then peered around the dwelling, scratching the back of his head. “Is there any rope around? I’m a bit lost in here.”
Russell shone the light at the inside leather flaps, finding nothing more than some cash and a subway ticket stuffed in the storage compartments. “I don’t think so. There might be some duct tape in the laundry room in a clear storage box on the shelf. It’s where Tim kept miscellaneous junk like that.”
“I’ll check it out.” Clyde walked away, leaving Russell and Max guarding the intruder. He found the other flashlight, and turned it on.
Russell tossed the wallet at the man, then pointed the steel meat mallet at his head. “Just so we’re clear about things, this can go one of two ways. You answer my questions without any B.S. and this will go easy. You jerk me around or do anything other than that, and let’s just say, you’re going to wish you hadn’t.”
The intruder laid on his side, facing Russell. The gleam from the light shone on the black ski mask he wore. He peered at Russell with narrowed eyes and gnashed his bright-white teeth through the open mouthpiece. “You don’t scare me and have no real concept of what pain is, or what really torturing someone looks like. So you can save your idle little threats for someone else.”
“Is that so?” Russell replied, nodding.
Max stood a foot or so from the man’s head, baring his fangs and growling under his breath.
“Yeah. It is.” The man spit a thick wad of saliva and blood that splattered against the wood floor, then licked around his lips. “Like I said, save your threats for someone who might buy your little theatrics.”
Russell clutched the mallet a hair tighter, looking at the brazen man, then to the steel teeth on the end. “Who are you, and why are you here?”
The intruder remained silent, peering at Russell from underneath his mask. He breathed heavily, and showed no signs of cooperating.
“Come on, buddy. Don’t test me.” Russell grabbed the top of the mask, and yanked it from his head. “I’ve had a shit couple of days, and I’m in no mood for this.”
The man shook his head. The loose strands of his hair pulled away from the tight man bun he had. “I hate to tell you, but your day is only going to get worse.”
Russell stared at the man bun. His eyes enlarged at the sight, mouth open in shock.
Is this him? Is this Kinnerk’s hitman who kidnapped Sarah and Mandy and killed my little girl?
The man bun was a good lead, but not a smoking gun. He’d have to probe and dig some for the truth. Regardless of how much he wanted to wail on the man and bash his skull in, Russell needed proof and answers first.
Clyde emerged from the hallway with a roll of duct tape held in the air. “I found that tape in the laundry room.”
“Bring it here, and let’s make him a bit more comfortable in the chair.” Russell stood up. He grabbed Man-bun by the arm, lifted him off the floor, then shoved him into the chair.
“Is he cooperating any?” Clyde asked, pulling a long strip of the super tacky tape out. He froze, then pointed at the man bun.
Russell nodded, acknowledging that he noticed it. “Not exactly. I’m about to change that.”
Man-bun pursed his lips. “You two clowns are in way over your head.”
Clyde grabbed Man-bun’s arms, and jerked them behind the back of the chair. He secured his wrists with the duct tape, then handed the roll to Russell. “You know, for someone in a pretty bad spot, you’re rather cocky.”
“I know bad people. I’m one of them,” Man-bun replied. “You two are amateurs at best. All bark and no bite.”
Russell secured both of his lower limbs to the wooden legs of the chair with the duct tape. “I guess we’ll find out shortly if we are or not.”
Clyde walked around Max who continued growling at the man from the side of the chair. He stood at Russell’s side with his piece in his hand as both men stared him down.
“Who are you, and why are you here?” Russell asked in a stern, aggravated tone. “Do you work for Samuel Kinnerk? Did you kill my daughter, Jess, and kidnap my wife, Sarah, and her friend, Mandy?”
Man-bun turned his head to the side, and spat to the floor again. “Go to hell. You two dead men can kiss my ass.”
Russell tilted his head, then glanced at Clyde who shrugged. “All right. Hard way it is.” He slammed the pointed end of the mallet down on the soft part just above Man-bun’s right knee.
“Ah,” Man-bun shrieked. His lids clamped shut and mouth opened wide.
“Oh, damn.” Clyde cringed at the crack of the steel mallet against the intruder’s bone. “That sounded like it hurt.”
Russell jammed the palm of his hand against Man-bun’s mouth to silence his painful scream. “Again. Do you work for Samuel Kinnerk? Tell me now, or I’ll keep tenderizing every inch of your body until you talk.”
Man-bun opened both lids. Each eye shined with wetness. He nodded as muffled cries seeped from between Russell’s fingers.
Russell removed his hand but stayed close. “Go on. Spill it.”
Man-bun panted, then took a deep breath. He looked at Russell. “Eat shit.”
“Wrong answer.” Russell hammered Man-bun’s left knee cap, and covered his mouth once more.
The crunching sound was drowned out by the muffled scream that forced its way out from around Russell’s hand.
“I don’t think he’s going to talk,” Clyde said, cringing and looking away. “He must have a high tolerance for pain. I couldn’t take that at all.”
“Oh. He’s going to talk even if I have to beat it out of him and break bones,” Russell replied, sounding more beast than man. “Last time. Tell me what I want to know, or I’m going to hobble you.”
Tears streamed down Man-bun’s mocha colored cheeks, past the scar, and into his trimmed beard. He jerked his arms, trying to free his wrists from the duct tape. His legs kicked, and he moved his backside in the chair.
Russell removed his hand from Man-bun’s mouth. Spit clung to his palm. He towered over Man-bun, adjusting the handle of the steel mallet between his fingers. “Are you ready to talk now?”
Man-bun’s head tilted toward the floor. The loose strands of his long hair flopped over and dangled in front of his sweaty face. He breathed heavily, chest heaving as he tried to calm himself.
“All right. So be it.” Russell lowered to the floor in front of him. “The right or left ankle? You pick.”
“Vin,” Man-bun said, breathless.
Russell stood back up, and pushed against his forehead, forcing it back. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”
Clyde leaned in close behind Russell, then whispered in his ear, “This has to be the guy. From what Mandy said, he fits the bill.”
“Yeah. It is him. I’m sure of it.” Russell pointed the business end of the meat tenderizer at Man-bun. “What has Kinnerk done with my wife?”
Man-bun’s face scrunched in agony. He clenched his jaw, and breathed heavily through his teeth. “Last I heard, Kinnerk no longer has your precious wife.”
Russell’s brows lifted in curiosity. He kept the meat tenderizer pointed at Man-bun and tapped his foot against the floor. “What do you mean he no longer has her? Who does?”
“A rival gang snatched her up from her home after she got away fr
om Kinnerk’s men,” Man-bun replied with a wheeze. “Beyond that, I don’t know anything else.”
“Who hired these men to do all of this?” Clyde asked.
Man-bun clamped both lids shut and scrunched his face in pain. His brow furrowed and nose crinkled. “An overseas drug dealer. Goes by the name Valintino.”
“What rival gang?” Russell asked, his voice raising in volume. “Where are they located? I need names and locations.”
“Like I said, pal. You’re in way over your head here.” Man-bun took a deep breath, then exhaled it. “You want no part of it. I can assure you. If I were you, I’d cut my losses.”
Russell placed the business end under his chin. “That isn’t going to happen. Not until I have my wife back.”
Man-bun shrugged. “It’s your funeral. The people who snatched your wife from her home work for Bryce. He has a restaurant he conducts business out of not too far from here. A pizza joint off Amber Lane. Sal’s Pizzeria if I remember right.”
“Why did they want Sarah?” Russell asked.
“Valintino hired Bryce to complete the transaction of getting your wife and to take out Kinnerk,” Man-bun replied.
Clyde rubbed his chin, then asked, “Where do you fit into all of this? Are you working for this Bryce guy now or Kinnerk still?”
Man-bun shifted his weight in the chair. He grumbled in pain. Max growled and kept his sights trained at the hitman. “I was contracted out by Kinnerk to complete my assignment—kill Russell Cage. After that’s completed, my dealings with Kinnerk are finished.”
Clyde nudged Russell’s arm, then tilted his head away from Man-bun. “Side bar.”
Russell squinted at the hitman with pursed lips. He pointed at Max. “Watch him.”
Max presented his fangs and inched closer to Man-bun. The hitman leaned away from the canine.
“Do you believe what this guy is saying?” Clyde asked in a whisper. “He could be giving us the run around. A wild goose chase to keep us going in circles or worse yet, sending us into a trap.”
Survive The Fall | Book 5 | Fight Back Page 17