Chapters (46)
- COVER PAGE
- PRAISE
- DEDICATION
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- SNEAK PEEK: EXIT .45
The punch landed in the guy’s solar plexus, folding him double and smashing the breath out of him with a short, high wheeze. It was more about vengeance for the dog than closing down a threat, but it was still nice to have the guy in a suboptimal condition. Vincent stepped back, giving himself room in case the man viewed this as an ongoing matter. Apparently he didn’t, so Vincent got a handful of the guy’s collar and sat him down in his booth again, pitched him forward to aid recovery. He’d be on little sips of air for the next ten minutes or so, until his guts stopped aching.
Lamar had twisted in his seat to watch the action, but he didn’t seem surprised by the outcome. Maybe all his drivers had been like this. The big man seemed unbothered too, still leaning forward on his arms. He stuck his head out in the aisle so he could see the next booth and said, ‘Lou, Jesus. One punch.’
Vincent pulled out a nearby chair and spun it around, sat down at the short side of the table.
The big man said, ‘What’s this? You paying in, too?’
And Lamar said, ‘Sly, this is Vincent.’
SEVEN
SEVEN
The benefit of a one-punch conflict was it didn’t cause a scene. Other than the quiet panting from the next booth, the noise in the restaurant was largely unchanged. No breathless phone calls, no manic scraping back of chairs.
The man named Sly looked out the window and then back to Vincent. He had big, heavy features that seemed droopy with boredom—mouth open a little and his brow coming in low across his eyes. He chewed emptily for a second, and then jutted his chin and sucked a front tooth, making a sound like a choked squirrel. Eep, eep, eep. The table was empty except for his arms.
He said, ‘So how’d you see this going?’ He took a hand off the table, gestured at his back-up man. ‘Come in here, slug my guy, and then just sit down and have a civil conversation?’
Vincent said, ‘I didn’t plan to hit him.’
‘Oh yeah?’
‘But then he got in my way, put a hand on me.’ He shrugged. ‘And I didn’t like how he treated the dog.’
The guy called Lou had his breathing under control now, and he’d managed to sit upright. Vincent said to him, ‘You stay there, we won’t have any issues.’
Sly looked at Lamar, aimed a thumb at Vincent. ‘This fucking guy, I can’t believe it.’ He looked at him and shrugged, still seeming bored. ‘What do you want, pal?’