Shotgun raised, Evan whirled into the corridor and moved briskly toward them, letting the first round fly. It sailed inches past David’s nose, striking Calaca’s forehead with a dull thud. The fat man staggered back, heels of his hands pressed to his skull, and tumbled into the pool. The AK-47 flew off his upflung arm, clattering onto the concrete across the water.

Marco swung his shotgun over, but Evan’s next round blew it out of his hands, sending it skittering over toward the pool.

Evan never slowed.

David fell back against the glass wall of the Korean mist room as Evan hurtled past, closing on Marco and whipping the shotgun stock up, clipping the narco under the chin. Marco reeled back into a reverse flip, his rising feet knocking the shotgun from Evan’s hands. Evan had an instant to marvel at just how badly he’d underestimated Marco’s fighting skills before Marco rotated back around onto his feet. He bounced low to cushion his landing, snapping off a quick left at Evan’s face, crushing his eye.

Evan blinked through the sting, his eye watering. Marco pressed his advantage, unleashing a flurry of punches. Caging his head with his forearms, Evan backpedaled in the narrow corridor, getting a little space as Marco hammered at him with bare-knuckle blasts. Finally he managed to shove Marco off, and they faced each other, panting. Beside them in the corridor, David recoiled into the wall as if hoping to transport himself straight through it.

Glancing over, Evan saw Calaca standing in the middle of the pool, having just regained his feet. He started to slosh toward his AK-47 at the far side of the pool.

Evan couldn’t let him get to that weapon.

Evan’s shotgun lay on the tile next to Marco’s feet, the barrel pointed toward the pool. Evan dove for it, snatching it up and getting off a shot just before Marco drove a heel into his kidneys.

The beanbag round flew across the spa and smacked into Calaca’s shoulder. The fat man went down again, gurgling water. Evan tried to bring the shotgun with him as he rolled onto his back, but Marco kicked it free. It glanced off Evan’s cheek, then cracked off the thick glass enclosure of the rain shower.

Evan threw himself up onto his feet. Marco feinted at him a few times, trying to create a reaction opening, but Evan didn’t take the bait.

Evan’s lower back throbbed where he’d been kicked. His eye watered from the blow. Swelling pressed his cheek upward, a raw-numb tingling.

Marco was a much better fighter than Evan. If they kept this up, he’d take Evan apart piece by piece.