Page 72 of Mafia Don's Secret Twins

Big men have ankles as weak as anyone. Weaker.

Volkov howls, and goes down. Johnny dodges his body as it dips, and ducks towards me.

“Behind you!” he yells.

I spin just in time to move away from the Frenchman’s fist. I come back, knocking him down. I know it’s a good hit because the sound it makes is like pounding into a steak.

I know it’s a great hit when he doesn’t get up.

“Dino!”

I turn to Johnny. Volkov is definitely reeling, but he’s rebounding quickly.

He, Johnny, and I are the only ones still standing.

Johnny looks at me, giving me a wink. “I’d rather it was you, man.”

Shit.

Instead of punching him, I walk up behind and grab his neck, pressing my hand against his windpipe. Volkov watches me, his eyes narrow, with all the patience of a wolf.

Gently, I lay Johnny down, and Volkov and I circle each other.

I don’t have any formal training. I’m just fuckin’ winging this.

But I can tell that Volkov is not going down easily.

We feint a couple of times, each of us dodging in the other direction. He’s big but he’s fast, and while I took his ankle down earlier, he’s recovering well.

Still. If it’s bruised, he has a weakness there.

Let’s see where else you’re hurt, motherfucker.

I duck in, landing a hit on his side. He winces, grunting.Ribs.

I spin away from him as one meaty fist moves.

Shoulder. He’s slow on his right side.

Dancing behind him, I put a punch in his kidneys, and he groans.

That’s the spot.

Enough pain from a kidney and liver shot will be more than just debilitating.

If I hit him hard enough, he’ll pass out.

I grin.

Volkov grunts and dashes for me. I spin, but not fast enough. The pain in my shoulder is intense, to the point where I stumble for a second.

It’s enough of a pause that Volkov swoops in, roaring like a wounded boar.

He hammers in another shot to my collarbone, and I hear something crunch.

That’s not good.

There’s a gasp that has to be Marisol. I turn, instinctively, toward the sound.

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