Hard Case V: Blood and Fear (A John Harding Novel Book 5) (26 page)

He regained his feet easier than before, having blocked my side-kick partially. Marko wisely circled me, jutting quick left and right smacks into my head. I kept my eyes tightly shut, trying to keep open the option to see something when I needed to. Confidence caused a speeding crescendo of blows. I felt the blood dancing off me like rain. I weaved in nonstop side to side motion, faking leg strikes to keep Marko wary. My timing would have to be spot on. I opened my eyes to the tiny slits permitted by the swollen sockets as he began grinding his left fist into my face. Measuring done, he threw the right. I darted right while leaping. I came down with all the power I could muster in a knife-hand strike to his neck. I heard the crack like a lightning strike on a dead tree branch.

In moments, there was dead silence. I landed on my feet, bobbing and weaving as if expecting another attack. I knew The Assassin would not be attacking anyone unless the zombie apocalypse started in the next few seconds, and Marko did it with his head rolling around loosely on his shoulders.

“Can you see, kid?”

“Not a thing, Jack,” I answered truthfully, as cursing screams echoed at me from Marko’s people.

“Fights over,” Jack said, raising my hand to a deafening cascade of sound.

“We’re here next to you, Hard Case,” Dev informed me. “Don’t swing. Anything you feel will be friendly. Jess is standing between you and Marko’s crew.”

I nodded, feeling the blessed ice pack pressed against my eyes. Someone peeled off my gloves while the ice pack was held in place, and a peroxide towel by the smell of it cleaned my wounds gently. A stool pressed into the backs of my legs.

“Sit down, dummy, and tilt your head into Dev’s hands. Keep bathing the cuts, Jafar.” Tommy was not pleased. I did as told. Dev removed the ice pack while Tommy I think pried open each eye, and a solution of something hell-a-soothing poured into my eyes. I could hear the peroxide making my bloody wounds bubble and the familiar warming sensation the wet application causes.

“You murdering bastard!” I recognized Kornev’s voice. “You forfeited the fight with that illegal strike, you son-of-a-bitch! Let me go… you-”

I heard Dev laugh before Jack’s angry voice. “It’s okay, Jess. Let the asshole go. I’ll sap him if he comes any closer.”

Gagging sounds in Kornev’s voice range sounded as he gasped for breath from what I assumed was Jess’s choke hold.

“Listen closely, Mr. Kornev,” Jack ordered. “Do you see my security guys with gloves on guarding the scene for the detectives to arrive? They will be paying strict attention to no one touching your fighter’s gloves. They’re with the Oakland Police Department. Hristov’s gloves will go to their lab to confirm whatever the hell it was you put on them. The coroner has been called I’m sure. My other security team confiscated all of your corner equipment. John couldn’t even see with the shit you poisoned him with. You fucked with the wrong guy, asshole! Now get the hell away, and wait outside the cage, or I’ll ask Jess here to escort you. Believe me, you don’t want that.”

I smirked a little because although Jack Korlos is scary, and proficient as hell with his fists or a sap, Jesse Brown when motivated will turn your head into mush if he connects with his right or left hand bombs. Kornev stormed out of the cage with his tail between his legs I’d bet, because even with the eye solution and ice, I had a feeling this night would be spent in the emergency room. I kept away from the thought of blindness. If it was true, I did for the bastard that did it to me. My crew would take care of Kornev. We would have anyway, but Cruella Deville kind of likes me. If he blinded me, I knew when the guys collected him, he would learn what happens when you fuck with us from Crue. If I’m blind, I’ll find a way to check out. I know Clint, Casey, or Lucas would help. Lora and Al would be well taken care of. I lay back against the chair with the ice pack on, thinking maybe bloody me up with some cuts, give me a razor sharp bayonet, and let me swim in the Bay. The more I thought about it, the more comfortable I got. I’d go out with my boots on. Hell… we could party before it got done.

“What the fuck you smilin’ at, cracker?” Tommy broke my mild reverie with attitude. “I know what the hell you’re thinkin’. If the shithead blinded you, ain’t no one in your crew goin’ to help you to the other side. Lora would declare war.”

“Shut the fuck up, Tommy.” Dev knew. “The man can pick his pleasure. I already know he’s thinkin’ his mates from CIA. They won’t pussy out like you.”

“That’s right, Tommy,” Jess’s voice joined in. “The decision ain’t yours to make, partner. Quit mind readin’, and let’s get John the hell out of here to the hospital. It’s not like Earl and ‘Rique won’t vouch for it.”

“Take me to Earl and ‘Rique,” I told them, listening also to the crowd undercurrent playing in the background. “Let me talk to them. Hey, Dev… did all the politicos scurry away like rats on fire from a burning ship?”

I could tell Dev and the guys were scanning the crowd. Jafar beat Dev to the answer.

“It is just so, John. I see no one in Oakland political circles. All their front row seats are vacant.”

“Yeah, kid, they probably streaked for the door two seconds after that honey of a strike I launched on poor old Marko, God rest his soul in hell, the dirty, no good, rotten prick. Steer me next to him so I can kick his corpse.”

That statement received the enjoyment I’d hoped for. I held onto the ice pack, and stood. The eye solution and ice pack eased the pain considerably.

“C’mon, dummy,” Tommy said, grabbing my arm. “Make your case so we can get some medical attention. Earl?”

“Yeah, Tommy?”

I could tell Earl was near me on the right. “Can I go get my eyes looked at? I’d like a head-start on anything that would prevent me from ending up blind.”

“No problem,” Earl stated with emphasis. “Are you headin’ to Highland?”

“That’s where I’m going, brother. All our cell-phones are on. If anyone gives you shit, give them my whereabouts and number. I’ll handle every call personally.”

“Don’t worry about it, brother,” Earl said, gripping my shoulder. “I hope there isn’t any permanent damage. That was sick.”

“I’m fuckin’ glad you killed that bastard, John,” ‘Rique stated. “We’ll put this whole damn thing in the light it should be put in.”

“Thanks guys,” I said, as I was led away. “Hey… do you see my monster squad?”

“They’re spread out, none of them near the cage,” Tommy replied.

“That’s a good sign.” I sighed with satisfaction. “Did Laredo text you, kid?”

“I will look as you exit. Go to the hospital, John. I will follow every aspect of this case. I will update info for Tommy every few minutes after we reach the hospital until Denny or someone arrives.

With a hand on Tommy’s shoulder, I cleared the cage entrance. There were regular media there foaming at the mouth to ask questions there were no answers for. Even they could see my eye dilemma, especially if they had observed the fight. No one knows about what they actually see. They report whatever the hell they think gives them street cred with the down trodden, including thugs, murderers, rapists, and psychopaths. The truth died a hard death decades ago with the fifth estate. The only thing left of those times when they reported what actually happened without bias are some hula hoops and Barbie dolls. By the questions being shouted at me, I couldn’t tell if these people had even seen the fight. I stopped for a moment to have some fun, because one idiot asked if the fight was rigged. My eyes had stopped trying to explode out of my skull, and I couldn’t resist.

I dropped the ice pack to my side for a moment, drinking in the gasps of shock. I knew the area around the eyes extending to my hairline, and down to my mouth had to be swollen hideously. The swelling reached my mouth because words had to be thought about while speaking. “Did someone ask if we’d rigged the fight so my opponent died, and I was blinded? Write his name down, Tommy. I want to know it in case I can see again. We’ll make him the next rigged death.”

There were some chuckles before he followed it with another gem. “Why didn’t you quit, Harding? You could have protested the fight later. Were you just looking for an excuse to get your third killing?”

Then it hit me. I knew his voice. This was the same reporter from the ‘Rattler’ fight asking if I’d broken the Rattler’s jaw after the fight ended on purpose, and tying it to the two deaths in my matches before.

“Are you there, Jess?”

“I’m here, John. I’m readin’ minds too tonight. You want to know if this is the same jackass media asshole from the Rattler fights, right? It sure is.”

Shit! This incident would be hard enough to play down without me shooting my mouth off. “I’m very sorry The Assassin died tonight. He wouldn’t have if he hadn’t blinded me. Frankly, he died in the cage resulting from his own actions. I don’t quit in the cage for anyone. He could have killed me just as easily. I ain’t allowing you assholes to portray The Assassin as a victim. I used the knife-hand strike to cripple his left upper arm pressure point, but by then my eyes were swollen shut, and struck high off target.”

That lie sounded sincere to my ears anyway. I detected the flashes going off, and I knew the video clips were getting an excellent illustration of how bad my face looked along with the still pictures. I had to do this, or Denny would have a hell of a time in spite of testimony from Earl and ‘Rique in my favor to keep me from being charged. The silence meant I’d made my point, so I put the ice pack against my eyes again.

“I think you wanted him dead, Harding,” the same reporter shouted out as we began to move again. “There is no such thing as an accident with you in the cage. You’re a monster. You should be banned from any fighting, especially the UFC!”

It annoyed me how close to the truth he was; but I’d put on the only show I could, and by the way Tommy kept tugging on me, I figured he thought the same way. Hell, I am a monster. “I can’t fix this reality for you any way you would like it, shithead. Marko Hristov had an agenda coming into the cage – to cripple me with some kind of poison on his gloves, which was damned effective. Unfortunately for him, his plan backfired. Goodnight. I have to go try and save my sight.”

“You should be charged with murder, Harding!” The reporter called out as we continued. By the less than pleased grumbling undercurrent amongst the people there, the sight of my face at close quarters must have made an impression. Tommy threw my windbreaker over my shoulders.

“If you don’t kill that ass-wipe, I’m going to do him myself,” Jess said as I could tell we’d cleared the building by the cool air hitting me, blowing away the smell of desperation.

“It wouldn’t be so bad if he wasn’t right,” I admitted, taking in deep breaths of the night air skimming in off the Bay.”

“He’s stalking you,” Dev added. “There’s not much doubt about that. We should have had his name on the list after the first Rattler fight.”

“Time for that later. I know Tommy’s still here. I can smell that aftershave shit he bathes in, Eau De Toilette or something. Where’s Jafar?”

The guys were enjoying my line about Tommy’s aftershave too much for Tommy to reply for a moment. “I sent Achmed the Terrorist ahead for the car. Denny texted me. He said they’d meet us at the hospital. They had a few likely suspects to tail away from the warehouse, and they all left when the Oakland politicos scrammed. Crue texted me personally to say you get a day off from training for the neck strike. Alexi is busily running down items of interest from your win, and to have his own crew checking any indication of the ‘Ghost’ guy.”

Gee thanks, Crue, but my training days are over for a while. People were streaming by us, oddly quiet in their passing. That happens when you’re with Dev, Tommy, and Jess. I let the ice pack drop for a moment, and squinted open my eyes a bit through my troglodyte swelled folds of skin. I scanned around with a smile. “Hey… I can see you guys.”

Jess laughed, peering into my face. “I don’t know how. I can’t even see your eyes.”

“Dev, you still have that stuff you rinsed my eyes out with?”

“Yeah, John. The doc gave me a whole bottle of it, because he had to go pretend he could wake the dead. Here.”

Dev pressed a bottle into my hand as Jafar drove alongside. “Thanks. I’ll ride in the back, Tommy, and douse my eyes again on the way. It must be promising I can see a little though.”

“You’re right, dummy, but you still should have cut out the moment we knew what they did to you. You know we’ll have to hunt for next of kin, right?”

“I know. We were so focused on Kornev’s life, we discounted Marko.” I slipped into the back, lying across the seat. “I’m going to be okay. You and Jess head for home, Dev. I’ll call you later.”

“Okay, brother. I want to hear from you tonight though,” Dev said.

“What he said, John,” Jess added. “If the A’s or Giants play a spring training game tomorrow, let’s watch it at your house with refreshments… that is if you can see the TV. Tommy? You know all those old TV shows. Who was that white cracker detective who worked cases blind?”

Tommy chuckled. “Ah… Longstreet. It was Longstreet.”

“If things don’t work out, Longstreet, you could work cases blind,” Jess was revving up. “Oh hell yeah! I can see it now. You could get a parrot to sit on your shoulder. It could be trained to talk, and say ‘Cracker’ every couple seconds.”

They were still enjoying that one a few minutes later when I had to smack Achmed the Terrorist in the back of the head to get him driving toward Highland Hospital. I leaned back to bathe my eyes. I couldn’t tell what the stuff was, but man it sure made my eyes feel better. The downer no matter what would be Lora and Al appearing at the hospital before I could get through the emergency room red tape. I figured hours before I actually made it to an examining room on a Friday night in Oak-Town. I smiled during the trip thinking about the blind detective moniker and Jess’s parrot.