Page 31 of War Games

“You’re not very good,” she says. “I clocked you over thirty minutes ago.”

I smile. “You were supposed to. You think I was following that closely out of sheer stupidity? I wanted a fair fight, and that wasn’t going to happen if I got the drop on you. Besides, I was curious. I wanted to know where you’d bring me, and to be honest, I’m surprised. This isn’t exactly a location I’d pick.”

Eagle shrugs her shoulders. “Butchers have a way of making some people feel . . . queasy, and judging by the way your face has drained of color, I’d say you’re one of those people.”

I shake my head, swallowing over the bile rising in my throat. “Nope. Not me.”

“Right,” she says, casually striding toward me. “You know, my daddy was a butcher for thirty years before—”

“You killed him?”

“What?” she gasps in horror. “No. I loved my father. He was a great man. He died after an incident with the cartel.”

“Well, shit,” I say with an awkward cringe. “Sorry, it’s just that most of us killers turned out the way we did because we have daddy issues.”

She watches me through a narrowed stare. “What’s your trauma?”

“Oh, you know. The usual.”

“What’s the usual? He raped you all through your childhood and the second you could, you gutted him like a fish.”

Horror blasts through my chest. She couldn’t be further from the truth, but I understand why she went there. Reality is, it happens a lot more than anyone thinks it should. “Shit. I don’t know you nearly well enough to trauma dump on you, but what I will say is that for me, my life wouldn’t be the way it is now if it weren’t for my piece of shit father, and if I were so lucky to get the chance to take his life, I’d make a fucking holiday out of it.”

Eagle nods. “So, you said you wanted a fair fight?”

I nod in return. “That’s right.”

“How fair?”

I arch a brow and slowly reach for the gun holstered around my thigh. I hold it up and release the magazine, letting it fall to the ground before tossing the gun aside. I kick the magazine, letting it slide toward the empty gun that just happens to be positioned right under a big piece of meat that’s hanging by a giant hook in the ceiling.

“Okay,” Eagle says, taking her own gun and doing the same. “Knives?”

Reaching for the knives hidden all over my body, I start tossing them aside, while being extra careful with the two blades of Reaper’s. “You don’t strike me as the type who requires weapons to get the job done.”

“I’m not,” she agrees before disarming herself.

I feel naked without my weapons, and I can only assume that she feels the same. The only difference is that on top of feelingnaked, I also feel like I’m going to hurl at any point. While Eagle here looks as fresh as a daisy, probably reminiscing about all the good times she had with her father.

After tossing my last knife aside, I rotate my cat-ear ring, hiding the sharp points on the inside of my palm. She comes for me, her fists already balled into weapons of their own. Excitement cracks like lightning in my chest, and I immediately spring on the defense, evading her with ease.

We trade punches, fists flying with skilled precision as knees and high kicks are brought into the mix. It’s a mesmerizing dance, and honestly, this is the type of shit I love.

I’ve gotta give it to her, she’s good. Better than good. She’s got strong punches with fast reflexes, and if this were nothing more than training, I’d keep her around simply to keep me on my toes, but she’s not better than me.

“You’re good,” I say, getting through her defense and landing a shot right at her ribs.

She grunts in pain, but it doesn’t slow her down as she hurls a punch toward my face. “Thanks, that means a lot coming from you,” she says in a chipper tone, switching things up and grabbing my wrists as I throw another punch. She yanks me forward and uses my momentum against me, letting me stumble right into the cold meat hanging from the ceiling, my face smacking right against it.

I whip around, not allowing her another chance to get the drop on me as I desperately hold back a gag. “Low blow.”

“I know, but you’re faster than me. I did what I had to do,” she says unapologetically as I ram my knee into her thigh with the power of a freight train. “Holy fucking shit.”

Eagle stumbles back, and I go with her, relentless in my attack, throwing a few more punches and knocking her off balance. I was more than happy to drag this out to allow us both to enjoy this fight before inevitably ending it, but I’m not a forgivingperson, and after yanking me into a meat carcass, it was over for her.

Her ass hits the ground, and as I come for her again, I deliver the blow to her temple that has her tapping out. “Fuck. Shit. Stop, please,” she begs, knowing I could end her life in a matter of seconds.

I hold back and watch as she crumbles with exhaustion, tears filling her eyes. “I can’t . . .” she says. “I can’t die like this. This isn’t what I want. I . . . I . . . ”

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