Pike moved forward fast, and the surprised kicker pulled up short, caught off guard by Pike’s advance. Then Pike dropped low and accelerated, as smoothly as water flows over rocks. He trapped the man’s arm, rolled it backward, and brought the man down hard, snapping the radius bone and dislocating the ulna. He hit the man one time in the Adam’s apple with the edge of his hand, the water now swirling off rocks as he rose to face the puncher, only the puncher had seen enough. He scrambled backward across the counter, and bounced off the wall as he ran out a back door.

The kicker gakked like a cat with a hair ball as he tried to breathe and scream at the same time. Pike dropped to a knee, watching the back door as he checked the man for a weapon. He found a nine-millimeter pistol, then left the downed man long enough to make sure no one was behind the counter or in the back room. He returned to the kicker, rolled him onto his belly, then stripped the man’s belt to bind his wrists. The man shrieked when Pike twisted the injured arm behind his back, and tried to get up, but Pike racked his face into the floor.

Pike said, “Stop.”

Pike had neutralized the assailant and secured the premises in less than six seconds.

The older man tried to sit up as Pike worked.

Pike said, “You good?”

“It’s okay. I’m fine.”

He didn’t look fine. Blood veiled his face and spattered the floor. The man saw the red spots, touched his face, then examined the red on his fingers.

“Shit. I’m bleeding.”

The man rose to a knee, but tipped sideways and ended up on his butt.

Pike took out his phone and thumbed in 911.

“Stay down. I’m getting the paramedics.”

The man squinted at Pike, and Pike could tell he had trouble focusing.

“You a cop?”

“No.”

“I don’t need the paramedics. Catch my breath, I’ll be fine.”

The kicker twisted his head to see Pike.

“You ain’t a cop, an’ you broke my arm? You bitch, you better lemme up.”

Pike pinned him with a knee, making the kicker gasp.

When the 911 operator came on the line, Pike described the situation and the victim’s injury, told her he had a suspect in hand, and asked her to send the police.

The man made a feeble attempt to rise again.

“Fuck all that. Just throw the asshole out.”

Pike had seen pretty much every violent injury that could happen to a human being, so he knew wounds pretty well. Scalp wounds produced a lot of blood and weren’t generally serious, but it had taken a hard blow to split the man’s forehead.

“Stay down. You have a concussion.”

“Fuck that. I’m fine.”