“Oh. I believe you,” Barrett said as he stood up from the forest floor. “But I’m wondering if you have the courage to face me like a man, without the gun. As a former Marine Raider, I crossed paths with you SF types many times. You guys really put the special in forces, no doubt about it,” he said, mocking Nick as he inched forward. His eyes remained cold, bottomless pits of apathy. “So how about it, friend? What’s a little fair fight between two military veterans? You think you have it in you, or are you afraid this Irishman will take you to the cleaners and then take your life?” The words echoed with pure malevolence, as if speaking them could conjure an evil entity that could strike Nick down.

Barrett inched forward again, and Nick pointed the Glock at his face. “Hold on a second there, friend. I’m going to tell you something, and I need you to hear it. I promise it will be worth the extra seconds of your life.”

Barrett stopped his minute forward momentum, his hands at his sides, poised to lash out.

“I don’t know how much time you personally had to share with my brother tonight, but I want to tell you a story, something that happened to us some years back, something I learned from him. And you being Irish—hell, you being you—I’m pretty sure you’ll appreciate it. My brother and I were in a bar outside Fort Bragg after I’d finished Q school, and we were doing a bit of celebrating. He came down from the agency to join me, and we were having a good old time. It was a bit more of a local place than a military bar, as the soldiers tended to avoid it. But we didn’t care. At some point in the night, two beautiful blondes who had no business being in that place started talking to both of us. We weren’t looking for trouble, but four locals took particular offense to outsiders talking to these girls, as if we were there on some kind of quest to strip them of their masculinity and steal their women. It was absurd, and my brother, always the smart one, told them there was no offense intended, and he pulled me out of the bar. Of course, those Neanderthals followed us out to our car, which did not go well for them. And as the four of them lay battered and bloody, three of them with broken bones—I’m pretty sure I broke one of their arms and dislocated a knee; it’s all a little hazy—I vividly remember what my brother told me,” Nick said in a hushed, sincere tone.

“And what was that?” Barret said.

“He said, ‘Nick, always remember that there’s no such thing as a fair fight. All that matters is who’s left standing when the fight’s over.’ ”