Chapter 16

I had always known that the sound of a pump-action shotgun was a very distinctive sound. It was in fact one of the reasons I owned one and had it ready for home defense. But this time the sound wasn’t of my making. As it was I froze in place, simultaneously sensing that Gonzo had done much the same. I’d gotten cocky. The hotel thing had gone so smoothly I didn’t even think this could go bad.

I heard a deep voice with a Texas drawl from behind me next. “Missy, while you do look like you can handle that ‘15 you got there I’d recommend you put it on the seat and keep yer hands where I can see ‘em. You’ve got the drop on me, but your boy here won’t be walkin’ away if you use it.” There was a pause for a few moments, time which I felt best to just stay frozen. This man may well have an itchy trigger finger after all. “Good girl. And you over there with the radio, drop it and your sidearm as well. Nice and easy on that car next to you.”

He would step to the side then, coming into my view and angling himself so that he put me between Gonzo and Lindsey. “I don’t know whether you three are stupid, brave, or cocky coming up here like this. But you knew I was here before you approached I bet, din’t you?” With his drawl there was the only one d in “didn’t”, (it’s amusing the things that stand out in your mind sometimes, isn’t it?)

I couldn’t help but chuckle, with a comment like that I wasn’t getting the feeling that he would be firing any time soon. Something in his demeanor made it seem unlikely. “Probably cocky on my part. You’re the second we’ve run into and approached. The ‘Pres’ wasn’t as friendly once I got talking to him.”

“So ye ran into him too, hmmm? I ran off a coupla his boys early on. They din’t seem too friendly either. But I’ve only got a coupla people here and not the type to stand up against ‘em.” He looked back towards the truck now, then back over to me again. “The truck is smart. I reckon it’s loaded up with supplies in addition to that makeshift armor, right?” He didn’t wait for much of an answer. “You said got cocky I reckon’ that means you think you can handle yourself? Might even be right, strong buck like you. Tell ye what, if you can beat me in a fair fight I’ll let the three of ye live and even leave with most yer stuff ‘cept ammo. I’d say that sounds fair, considerin’ I could just shoot and take all of it now.”

The ego side of me hated to admit it but he was right. My cockiness and not being cautious had put us here. So it was only fair I be the one to face the challenge. Plus I was the best suited. I had kept up with my workouts and had a lot of training and belts to my name. You didn’t become an MMA trainer just because you looked strong, after all. “I’m going to set the box down and then my pistol. You said fair fight, so once I do that you’ll lose the shotgun?”

I had always had an ability to read people, judge when their words were real or not. This man ... he almost seemed to want the challenge and had been looking for the opportunity. If I was right that could bode well. But that could also mean he was someone not to take lightly.

He took a step back before nodding his head in agreement. “Thas’ right. You drop the box and your weapons, I’ll set down my gun. Then we’ll step back over yonder and have ourselves a little dance. Hand to hand, no weapons.”

i considered him a moment before moving to set the box down. He was dressed in boots, pants, and a tshirt, a fairly big man, maybe an inch or so short of my 6’3”, well built, though perhaps a little softer in the middle. He looked like the athletic type that started to relax in his middle years, a little sag but still fit overall. I’d only seen a little of his movement so far but for him to issue a challenge he felt confident he could handle himself. With my build it hadn’t been uncommon to intimidate some people. “Then if I win you listen to what we came to say, you along with any others with you. The box is food, yours either way as a sign of good faith.” I then went ahead and set the box down, then put my pistol on top of it before stepping out into the open, making a show of turning so he could see there were no other weapons.

“Boy, we don’t need any good faith here. This is gonna be a good old-fashioned beat down. I figger we’re close enough in size and age that neither can claim it as unfair that way. You look like you’ve had yer share of training time. Might even be a challenge.” I’d heard the type before, he thought highly of his skills, which could be bluster. But if it was he’d more likely have kept the weapon rather than set it down for a fair fight. I still had the feeling he was looking for an excuse to test himself and decided I looked like the best option.

I took a moment to turn back towards Gonzo and Lindsey, locking eyes with both for a moment. “Let this play out. As long as it’s a fair fight, just let it be.” I then turned back to the other man, practiced eyes looking him over. A slight limp off one knee that didn’t seem feigned. Considering I had something similar it wasn’t surprising. I noticed his preparation. The balance switching to mostly the balls of his feet, a slight bounce to his step to help keep him ready to move either foot. “You look ready, or do you need loosening up?”

The other man shook his head, hands coming up near his chin in a defensive boxing stance, elbows in close to his midsection. It was a practiced and easy stance for the other man, but possibly meant to hint at a boxer before leading into kicks. My eyes moved between his shoulders and hips. Neither feet nor fists could go offensive without the hips or shoulders moving first. Young fighters often focused on the fists and so were more susceptible to faints. So it was a lead left feint was thrown, his fist moving no more than a couple inches to judge reaction. My reaction was to pivot and take my line off center, moving right and away from his presumed right power hand.

The next minute was a series of feints and moves as the two of us figured each other out. This man may have been an amateur, but he has fought and had some legitimate training. His footwork and movements were good. Considering our age we both moved well, though the limp I had noticed early didn’t appear to be faked, I could see times where it slowed him down. It didn’t give me much of an advantage as I had a similar lingering injury of my own, one which he was quicker to try taking advantage of. An inside leg kick caused me to spin away in order to partially deflect the kick before answering with a counter right hook of my own. Rather than anger at the blow I saw a nod of acknowledgment.

This man really was one who was enjoying the match up and the challenge. I had to admit I was as well, I was a fighter enough to know there were few who could legitimately challenge me. I was an MMA trainer after all and with good experience. My opponent was one who could mix it up as well; not just as a boxer, either. I could feel and see him moving from kickboxing to karate skills, from boxing to street style brawling depending on what openings I gave him to attack with. With each style change I changed as well, demonstrating we both had similar experience levels.