LITMIR.BIZ

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with anger.

      He stomped on Jake’s arm as he came, and I heard the sound of grinding bone as I backed off to give myself some space.

      The hallway was narrow. My opponent filled it from wall to wall as he raised his fists in a guard, elbows at eye level. Whatever the outcome, I had the distinct impression that this was going to hurt.

      “I don’t know who the fuck you think you are,” I said, stopping as I reached the centre of the hall, a small square that led to all the other downstairs rooms, “but this is private property. I suggest you leave.”

      My only answer was a meaty first, hurled at my head faster than I would have thought someone that big could move. I ducked to one side, grabbed the wrist and twisted his arm so that his elbow was pointing up, dropping my own elbow onto it with a force honed by years of kung fu and street fighting combined.

      To my amazement, the joint cracked but didn’t break, causing the man to roar and shake me off before hammering a fist into my ribs that I was too slow to block.

      I gasped as the pain hit, then felt a lazy grin forming as my body’s chemical cocktail kicked in, flooding my system with its mixture of endorphins, adrenaline and half a dozen other useful things. Concern over my brother, fear over fighting an unknown opponent who looked as if he could kill me, everything faded away but the need to beat him, to win.

      You see, I love fighting, always have. Right or wrong, I relish the chance to slip the chains free and leap into the fray, testing myself against those who think they can best me. When the adrenaline flows it’s as if I’m a different person, playing by a different set of rules.

      The bear came in again, throwing fast, sharp jabs that would have broken my nose and cheekbone if they’d connected. Instead, I slapped his fist past me with an open hand, pushing him off line, then spun and dropped to sweep his legs.

      It half-worked. Given the limited space, all it did was throw him into the wall rather than take him off his feet, but he was disorientated and facing away from me, and so I leaped into the air and drove my elbow into the nerve point on the back of his shoulder, putting my full bodyweight behind it.

      The big man collapsed, legs turning to jelly as his body lost control. I landed behind him, slamming a quick knee into his temple to make sure he stayed down.

      The real world flooded back. The sound of my harsh breathing echoed loud in my ears, my hands shaking with the now-unneeded chemicals in my system.

      I took a moment, breathing deeply, then dropped to my knees and put two fingers to Jake’s neck to check his pulse. I sighed with relief when I found it, rolling him over to see a large, purple bruise already forming on his jaw.

      “Hey,” I slapped Jake gently and was rewarded with the sight of his eyes flickering open. “I need you with me, wake up.”

      “What happened?” He sat up slowly, putting a hand to his head.

      “That man-mountain over there hit you.”

      He looked past me and his eyes widened.

      “Oh shit. What have you done?”

      “What have I done? I’ve gone and bloody saved your life is what, you ungrateful shit!”

      “No, you don’t understand,” he shook his head and then hissed with the pain from his battered skull. “You can’t lay hands on these guys, no matter what. You do and the rest will kill you.”

      “Oh come on,” I scoffed. “You’re expected to just let them do whatever they want without fighting back?”

      “Yeah, pretty much.”

      “Bullshit. You know what? I’ve had enough of this. I don’t doubt that you’re in danger, but if this is the worst they can throw at you then I reckon I can keep you safe enough in custody.”

      “No, Gareth, please.” Jake stood shakily, holding his hands out. “I promise you, they’ll kill me. Just let me disappear. If I get a few hours’ head start, I’ll bury myself so deep they’ll never find me.”

      “And I’d forgotten how full of shit you can be. What was I thinking? Come on, let’s go.”

      I grabbed him before he could protest, forcing him towards the door.

      “I’m going to get you in the car, then I’m calling this in and coming back to make sure sleeping beauty there doesn’t wake up before the cavalry arrives.”

      What I didn’t tell him was that my cuffs were in the car, and that he’d be wearing them before I left him alone for a second. I’d swallowed the story earlier, and I had no doubt that some of it was true, but Jake’s attempts to make his enemies sound like they were evil incarnate just seemed a little too farfetched.

      Right up to the point that we stepped outside and saw the other two men, loitering at the end of the path with their pistols pointed towards the door.

       Chapter 7

      Years of street-honed reflexes kicked in. I grabbed Jake by the collar and pulled him backwards, collapsing through the doorway as the soft sound of silenced shots hissed through the air.

      Chips of wood flew out of the porch and doorframe, some of the rounds punching through to bury themselves in the floorboards near our feet.

      I kicked the door shut and got to my hands and knees, Jake right behind me as we scrabbled up the stairs.

      “You fucking arsehole,” I found myself muttering over and over as the sound of shots was replaced by feet crunching on gravel.

      We ran into Dad’s room and I looked around for something to use as a barricade. Although the door was locked, it wouldn’t take someone long to break through it.

      “Help me with this.” I pointed at the heavy oak wardrobe against one wall. “Push it towards the door but leave a gap so we can tip it.”

      Jake nodded, face pale with fear, but moved to help. Even with the two of us straining at it, we nearly couldn’t shift the monstrous wardrobe. How anyone had managed to get it up the stairs in the first place I had no idea.

      As we half-dragged, half-shoved it into position, the sound of the front door being kicked in echoed through the house. Using more haste than care, I rocked the wardrobe over so that the top of it wedged itself against the door, forming a barrier that I doubted anyone would get through without a chainsaw.

      That done, I pulled my phone out and dialled three nines.

      “This is Charlie Papa 291,” I almost shouted as the stairs creaked outside. “I’m at seventy-four, repeat seven four Hillside, Woodingdean. I have armed intruders in the house and need urgent assistance. Confirm they have firearms and have fired on an officer.”

      To give her credit, the call taker barely missed a beat as she plugged Ops One, the Inspector in charge of the control room, into the call.

      His voice came on, clear but tense.

      “Charlie Papa 291, confirm you have a firearms incident?”

      “Yes!”

      “Understood, we have units en route to you now. How many assailants?”

      “Two, both armed with pistols. We’ve barricaded ourselves in one of the bedrooms upstairs.”

      The door shuddered as someone threw their shoulder against it. I added my weight to the wardrobe and prayed it was thick enough to stop a bullet.

      “OK, who is in there with you?”

      “I’ve got one in custody for drug offences, it’s just us.”

      “OK, understood. Gareth, right?”

      “Yeah.” I flinched as a silenced shot sent a bullet burrowing through the door and into the back of the wardrobe with a dull thud.

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