Page 11 of Maverick

Chapter 6

The impact of Kingpin’s fist exploded across my face. I stumbled back, cursing. I tasted blood on my tongue, metallic and hot. Adrenaline pumped through my veins, and I launched myself forward. My knuckles connected with his gut, driving the air from his lungs. He grunted but didn’t back down. Instead, he grabbed my shoulders and yanked me into a brutal knee that connected with my ribs.

“Fuck,” I gasped, but I drove my elbow down onto his thigh, enough to make him buckle. We crashed onto a nearby table, the old wood splintering under our combined weight. Beer bottles shattered around us, glass fragments cutting into my arms. The smell of sour ale and blood hit my nose.

Kingpin was heavier, older, and cunning. He fought dirty, always had. He raked his black nails across my face, aiming for my eyes, and I barely jerked back in time. I wrapped my arm around his neck, trying to twist his head into a choke hold. Twist the damn thing clear off, if I could. He slammed an elbow into my side with enough force to make my vision blur.

My boots scraped for purchase on the wet, sticky floor. We both tumbled sideways, crashing into a row of freestanding stools. They scattered like bowling pins. He pinned me for half a second, hooking his arm around my throat. I snarled, bringing my fist up into his ribs, hooking him under the beard. Anything to break free.

“Just like old times, Pig!” he spat.

Memories of our first real fight, years ago, flashed in my head. He’d always had the advantage in weight and experience, but I’d had a detective’s training in self-defense. I gritted my teeth, ignoring the pain, and planted my foot in his gut, shoving with everything I had. He flew back, arms flailing, slamming against a sticky table.

Gasping for breath, I forced myself up, fists raised. A cut above my right eyebrow dripped blood into my eye. I wiped it away with the back of my hand. Glass crunched under my boots. We circled each other, chests heaving.

“You could’ve killed me,” I ground out, trying to steady my breathing. “But you didn’t. Why are we doing this all over again?”

He spat on the floor, a fleck of red in it. “Because you need reminding who the fuck is in charge, Maverick.”

Something about hearing him say my name instead of “Pig” or “Hallow” made me pause. My rage was still there, but I felt a flicker of confusion. That was all Kingpin needed. He lunged, slamming a fist across my cheek. My head snapped to the side, and I staggered, nearly blacking out. I tasted blood and sweat, felt my veins pounding in my skull.

“No more running,” he hissed. He grabbed my cut, yanking me upright, his breath hot on my face. I stared into those cold eyes, wishing I could just tear them out.

“Fuck you,” I rasped, ignoring the splitting pain in my ribs. “I ain’t runnin’ from you.”

He hauled back for another strike, but I managed to block it, hooking my arm around his. With a twist, I got leverage,ramming him into the bar with a sickening crunch. He let out a grating moan, sliding down to one knee.

Merc’s voice cut through the haze, distant and frantic. “Shit. Hey. Don’t break my damn bar, you bastards!”

I ground Kingpin’s face into the edge, my weight pressing him down. “Call me Pig one more fucking time,” I snarled.

He chuckled, even as his lip smashed against wood. “Pig.”

My fury surged. I let him go just enough to land a savage punch across his jaw. Something cracked. We both lost our balance, and I ended up sprawled on the floor. Before I could get up, he scrambled to his feet, snatching up a broken bottle. The jagged edge glinted in the neon light.

I cursed and backed up a step. My left hand fumbled blindly for a weapon of my own. My fingertips closed around another shard of glass, and I lifted it between us. We stood there, gasping, bleeding, just staring, broken glass as dueling swords. Neither of us gave a shit about how ridiculous we looked.

Merc’s voice echoed again, louder, more desperate. “Christ, you two are fuckin’ insane. If someone’s dyin’, do it out back. Not in my bar.”

Neither of us moved. Kingpin’s eyes narrowed, blood streaking down his chin, into that black beard. “I could kill you right now, and no one would say a damn thing. You realize that?”

My grip on the shard tightened. “Do it, then. I got nothin’ left to lose. Sky’s gone. Eve’s gone. My illusions about the Road Monsters are long gone. I’m just your fucking pawn again.”

He gave an ugly laugh. “You never had illusions about this life, Pig. You always knew what we were, criminals, outlaws, scumbags. You joined up because you had nowhere else to go. After losing your detective job and your precious love, you’re adrift. You need us just to survive.”

My breathing slowed, the fight-or-flight tension still vibrating in my muscles. But part of me realized he was telling the absolute truth. I swallowed thickly, ignoring the fresh blood on my tongue. “You took Eve from me,” I said, voice trembling with rage. “Then I took Sky from you, because you turned your back and cheated on her. Let’s not pretend we’re saints.”

“Sky was never truly mine,” he shot back, spitting on the floor. “I just claimed her. Then you claimed her. Now she’s with Getty. So, seems she’d been using us all along.” A twisted grin. “But that’s not my business anymore. Eve’s all I need.”

I felt a pang of old pain at her name. Eve, my first real love, the woman I was gonna marry. She’d lost my baby once, we never recovered, and next thing I knew, she was with Kingpin. “Good for you,” I sneered. “Congratulations on your little vow renewal or whatever you called that bullshit ceremony. Heard you got two babies now, too.”

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Yeah. Two little ones. A real family. More than you’ve got, Pig. You lose them all in the end, don’t you?”

Rage flared again, and I had to force myself not to strike. At the corner of my vision, I saw Merc inching closer, as if to intervene. “Knock it off,” he hissed, brandishing a shotgun from behind the bar. “I don’t need a murder scene in my place. Not this week.Take it outside or I’m gonna kill you both.”

Kingpin and I traded one last stare. Then Kingpin dropped the broken bottle with a clatter. I followed suit. I wasshaking, desperate for more violence, but it seemed the worst of it was over. For now.

He looked at me, breathing hard. “Still a tough bastard, Hallow. Or Maverick, whatever. I gotta say, if you’d been any weaker, I’d have left you in a pool of blood. But you can handle yourself.”

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