David hadn’t just ruined his own life.
He had brought his dangerous world directly to my front door.
“I don’t have a safe,” I lied smoothly, maintaining eye contact. “And I’m not going anywhere with you.”
Marcus’s face flushed red with sudden anger.
“I’m not asking, you decrepit piece of trash!” Marcus shouted.
He reached out with both hands and shoved me violently backward.
My shoulders slammed hard into the rough brick wall of the diner.
Pain flared down my spine, a sharp reminder of my seventy-two years, but I didn’t fall.
I planted my boots firmly on the concrete, absorbing the impact.
Through the diner window, I heard Lily scream for someone to call the police.
Marcus didn’t care about the witnesses anymore.
He reached toward the back of his heavy denim jeans.
When he brought his hand forward, he was holding a massive, rusted steel crescent wrench.
He raised it above his head, the heavy metal glinting in the bright afternoon sun.
“It’s time to pay your daughter’s debts,” Marcus hissed, stepping in to bring the heavy wrench crashing down toward my skull.
The heavy steel wrench cut through the air, aimed directly at my head.
To an average civilian, a weapon swinging toward them is a source of blinding panic.
But for a man who spent two decades training Marines in close-quarters combat, it was just a problem of physics and timing.
Time seemed to slow to an absolute crawl.
I didn’t flinch.
I didn’t close my eyes.
I stepped quickly inside his guard, moving toward the attack instead of away from it.
I raised my left forearm, catching Marcus’s wrist just below the heavy wrench before it could gain full momentum.
At the same time, I drove the heel of my right hand fiercely into his exposed throat, just above his collarbone.
It wasn’t a lethal strike, but it was precise, painful, and absolutely debilitating.
Marcus let out a ragged, choking gasp.
His eyes widened in sheer disbelief.
Before he could recover his breath, I pivoted my hips, twisted his extended arm behind his back, and applied a brutal wrist-lock.
The heavy steel wrench clattered uselessly onto the concrete patio.
I drove Marcus forward, slamming his face hard onto the metal table he had just been leaning on.
I pinned his arm upward at a severe angle, securing him completely.
If he moved even an inch, his shoulder would dislocate.
The entire confrontation had taken less than three seconds.
Dex and Cody froze instantly, their mouths hanging slightly open.
They had expected a frail, terrified senior citizen to cower and beg for mercy.
They had absolutely no idea how to process the fact that their massive leader was now pinned to a table, gasping for air, immobilized by a man twice their age.