Page 6 of Special Agent Murphy

Chapter Four

Murphy moved quickly, the fear of his partner getting annihilated spurred him on. Having to come up with explanations for the bitch-boss of why he sat outside while an FBI agent got the shit kicked out of her didn’t sit well with him. Annoyed, he headed inside the joint to solve whatever mess she’d gotten herself into.

By the time he’d entered, many of the patrons were disappearing out the side door, a few whipped past him at the front, and still others were climbing out of an open window on the side.

Taking in the action, he watched mesmerized. Totally involved in kicking the unmitigated crap out of her opponents, and there were two of them, the yapper (best he started remembering her name) moved like a streak of beauty. The discipline in her punishment a sight to behold.

He noticed two were on the floor groaning, one holding his arm at an awkward angle, and the other rolling, grimacing while clinging protectively to his boys. Murphy found himself bending slightly forward in sympathy.

Deciding he needed to assist, but before he could intervene, his partner flipped one of the fighters onto a table full of cans and bottles. The resulting noise of breaking glass didn’t bode well for the victim.

Before he could stop the one coming at her from her left, she sidestepped and grabbed his arm, swinging in a circle and landing the stranger’s face against the solid oak post near the wall.

Sweet Jesus!Murphy winced when he heard the skull hit the wood. Ouch!! Standing and watching the action, he hadn’t enjoyed anything as much in a very long time. That is until another wave of idiots thought to pay her a lesson.

A huge character moved in behind her, and using her hair, he dragged her to him. He wrapped his bear paws around her chest, thinking to contain her arms. Too bad he hadn’t controlled her legs, the ones with the killer boots at the end. She spiked his foot, slamming her heel hard enough to bring a yelp.

Murphy laughed out loud when she followed it up with a brutal kick to the fat guy’s arch. When the bear loosened his grip, she drove her elbow behind her into a stomach not prepared to be hit. And fatso’s face turned a funny shade of purple before he fell onto his ass and got her boot in his face.

The player closer to Murphy who thought to get involved had met up with Murphy’s fist and now lay flattened on the floor nearby. It looked like all takers had disappeared and the Yapper – what the hell was her name – realized he’d arrived.

Her finger pointed to the back of the place, and she ground out an order he couldn’t ignore. “They have the girl. Out back. Help her.”

One more idiot thought to move in on Murphy and stop him from doing her bidding, and the back of his head met with a wooden chair she flattened it with.

“Go! I’m coming.”

Murphy went.

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