Hard Case V: Blood and Fear (A John Harding Novel Book 5) (39 page)

“Good enough,” Sal said. “We watched the two Rattler fights, Harding. Is it true you’re doing back alley street fights for control of different parts of your city?”

I glanced at Lucas because I had no idea how much he’d told them. The fact he sent the game show vid to them means they know a hell of a lot already. “We have an off the books operation to regain control of Oakland’s neighborhoods. It was Quay’s idea to interest these gangbangers in a winner take all type match with side betting. I have one on for tomorrow night. It’s weird, but it’s working.”

“We’d like to see it, if you don’t mind us being around, John.”

“Sure, Chuck,” I replied. Hell, why not? “It’s no big deal. These matchups provide me with ways to stay in the fight game, and keep my skills honed. Our former Russian gangster friend, who tips us off on anything bad happening at our ports, allows us to use the warehouse converted into a fight arena he owns. We have some fun with the side bets, so my partner Tommy practices his skills while the match goes on. We’ve been warned though through back channels it would be bad if there’s another death in these matches.”

“How do the gangs take to being aced out?”

“They either abide by our one on one matches when they accept the venue, or we destroy them, Sal,” I explained. “So far, that’s only happened once. The Oaktown Cartel is a definite presence on the streets now. We’re helping the cops, and they’re tacitly agreeing to the extracurricular fights, meaning they look the other way.”

“I like this,” Chuck said. “You guys do things the rest of us only dream about. Whatever’s working for you, we’re right there with you, and no questions asked. You’re risking a lot with a UFC career doing these street fights on the side. I hope the neighborhood gains remain worth the risk.”

“So far, so good.”

* * *

Oh crap. The packed warehouse might see an upset in the making. Miguel Romero’s Father clued us into the Asian Crips moving into his neighborhood because of it being partially zoned for commercial shops, which had a large Asian ownership. The Asian Crips terrorized the shop keepers, collecting protection money, and selling drugs out of the shops. Gus worked his magic setting this winner take all match in place, with Alexi supplying our venue, and Jack Korlos as referee. The Crips loved the idea, because when Gus met with them, he brought a contingent of Oaktown Cartel converts with him – former gangbangers and enforcers, now on our payroll. Seeing they were outnumbered three to one, the Crips agreed to terms. Gus told me they liked the idea a bit too much for his liking. Now, I understand why.

Right out of the gate, I took a roundhouse kick to the head I never even saw. It stir fried my brain. I pawed around on my back, blocking kicks from three guys - at least that was the number my triple vision relayed to my brain, accompanied by the familiar little birdies chirping between my ears. Only my continued Bay pole poking, shark tag regimen kept me conscious. This mixed race Asian kid, calling himself Dragon Hands, was faster than the damn Rattler, and he enjoyed his work. Maybe an inch smaller than me, nearly the same weight, with arms and legs like corded steel, he showed martial arts skills practiced from childhood. I glimpsed another roundhouse kick on the launch pad as I tried to scramble to my feet, whipping over at the last split second to smash a closed fist into the kid’s right knee joint.

Dragon Hands screamed out in pain as I caught him coming in. The strike spun him into the cage and down. I twisted over without getting on my feet, and side-kicked him in the chest. I missed his head, which was what I aimed at, but the strike blasted him into the cage, and face down on the mat for a moment. The kid could take it though. He crab crawled away from me to the other side of the cage, while assessing damage. I did the same. His first killer roundhouse still had me trying to join images in my head, but I lurched again to my feet. I didn’t attack him, because I wasn’t sure whether or not I’d take a few steps, and fall flat on my face. It was a standoff for long moments with the crowd rattling the old warehouse walls with sound. Hands furiously worked his knee while rasping air into his lungs against the cage.

I was afraid to look at my corner for fear vertigo would put me on my ass. I could imagine Tommy calling me every name in the book, thinking I had been overconfident. In the stands, I’m sure Lucas was disavowing my Recon nickname for his friends’ amusement. Hands approached warily, testing his leg for support. I knew one thing for sure: he wouldn’t be landing kicks with either foot. He would need his right leg’s support to strike with his left, and by the way his knee joint was already swelling, I figured another right leg strike wasn’t happening either. My vision cleared a bit, but I hesitated to initiate an offense. Hands went for the takedown. I bopped him a glancing blow with an elbow strike. It drew blood.

On the mat where he put me easily, Hands began snaking arms and legs around my head and arms faster than I could think, going for triangle chokes, arm bars, and everything in the book. I rolled, twisted, threw elbows, and became entangled in a nearly closed triangle choke. He had my left arm and head locked with his left leg. Grainy darkness began to descend with Jack Korlos on his knees watching to make sure I didn’t die on him. The ocean tide of doom roared in my head. I rolled to my knees, lifting Dragon Hands with my last few seconds of consciousness, and him squeezing with all he had. Unfortunately for him, I made it to my feet. I ran the big spider monkey head first into the cage.

Jarred from his mounting, Hands hit the cage, and down on his back. I dropped with an elbow shot to his head while seeing stars, light flashes, and for some reason, Smokey the Bear. Smokey didn’t help my aim. I missed his head in a stumbling downward strike where I nailed his hard as a rock stomach instead. It was enough to blast the air out of him, allowing me to lurch away from Hands before those steel leg cables and arms wrapped around my damn head again. I did remember to shoot in a satisfying heel kick to his head I was sure would give Hands his own opportunity to see Smokey.

I crawled the hell away fast, grabbed some cage, and pulled myself upright. The crowd noise seeped into my battered brain again. They were near to lifting the roof off. Man, was it loud in there. Either that or the band played on in my own head only. When I thought I could face Hands again without falling on my face, he was still on his back, rocking weakly back and forth, trying to stay conscious. I grinned. Time for the old running football kick. I charged across with murderous intent, only to be intercepted by Jack Korlos. He shouldered me off course.

“Fight’s over, kid. He tapped out already.”

“One more for the road, Jack.” The monster broke the chains in my head. He demanded an accounting. I eased Jack bodily along with me. I planned to stomp Smokey the Bear right out of his head. Every joint in my body ached.

“No more killings in my cage, John!”

I stopped, partly in respect for Jack, and partly because Hands was already cringing against the cage, unable to get away, but conscious enough to know he was near death. I let my arms drop. “I’m good, Jack.”

I pointed at Dragon Hands. “Good fight, Dragon. Damn… you’re in the wrong business.”

Jack let me go, but stayed in between me and Hands. I turned without any more comments, heading for my corner. There wasn’t any announcements or cameras, only the absolute bedlam going on in the crowd. The Crips were unhappy, but they were surrounded by not only Godfather Gus’s Oaktown Cartel guys, but my own crew of deadly killers, smiling at the scene with anticipation. The Oakland politicos fled the scene. Jafar threw a wet towel over my head. Tommy grabbed me by the ears, his face two inches from mine.

“Tell me you didn’t half ass this fight nearly into your own death match!”

“He clocked me with the roundhouse, T. I didn’t even see it.”

Tommy nodded. “Okay then… sorry. Maybe an hour each day, treading water on the Bay with your hands straight in the air will keep you safe in the first few seconds of a fight.”

“He won the damn fight, T,” Dev said, working the arm pinned by Dragon Hands against my head, while Jess worked the shoulder. “That guy is hell-a-good. He shot that kick so fast to John’s temple, it looked like a shoulder rocket.”

“Brother, I don’t know how the hell you came back from that strike,” Jess added, helping me strip off my gloves. “Hell, you should have died during the triangle he had on you.”

“I saw Smokey the Bear. He strangled me so long, I saw old Smokey.”

I watched with grinning appreciation as my admission elicited raucous enjoyment from even Tommy. “Only you can prevent forest fires.”

That one had Jafar almost on his knees. Another day, another lesson in life. “How’s our gang negotiations going?”

“Could be better,” Dev said, gesturing at the outside the cage altercations. “It seems they weren’t expecting to lose. It’s being handled.”

“I hope to hell Gus can recruit those guys into the Cartel,” Jess added. “I think we could substitute Dragon Hands into the matches in place of you, Smokey.”

“Gee, thanks.” Not a bad idea. “After that match, I’m beginning to see your point.”

“You were going to kill him, John.” Naturally, Jafar comments on that segment of my match. “He knew it too. I think he was trying to crawl through the cage links as you were dragging Jack along with you.”

“In my defense, it was the blood finally rushing to my head. I guess this was a bad one for Lucas to bring his friends to. Let’s get the hell out of here. I need refreshment.”

Jafar held his iPad for me to see with an impatient Cruella Deville, holding the tiny Clint Jr. She pointed at me with a big smile. “Hell of a fight, Sissy. You nearly let that high school kid kill you. Nice pickup and run his head into the cage though. Lucas is going to ream your ass.”

“Nice to see you too, Lynn,” I replied while my cage brothers mocked me. “Clint Jr. looks wonderful. I’m sure you’ve heard we’re arranging a new directorial gig for you with full entourage.”

Lynn went feral instantly. Her countenance went from pleasant teasing to torturous mistress of the unimaginable in a split second. “When I get my hands on that traitorous asshole, there won’t be enough of him left for the Hollywood bunch to transfer to the Feds. I know you guys will be overseas with the Wolf by the time we get Moronas in for his reeducation seminar. If the weasel knows anything that will help, I’ll make him beg to tell it.”

“Anything you can do is great with me. I’m betting he has the exact coordinates of where Christova’s yacht is parked. Have fun. Every time he opens his mouth, I want to stuff a grenade down his throat. You can only imagine how pumped I am about having him in your hands. Don’t mess with your Hollywood collaboration. You’re first rate as a director. The minions are the best support you could ever hope for in scene staging. Between Clint at your side, and Lucas’s friends’ Red Dragon Security on tap, the episode could win a Grammy or whatever the hell award they give out.”

“Thanks, John.” Lynn calmed down noticeably, hugging Clint Jr to her. “I need this gig down in LA. I’m going nuts. I’ll have one of Maria’s doctors with me, and Laredo has our private jet converted into a baby clinic. I’m in shape like never before. I can do this.”

“I know you’ll do great things with our Hollywood Bounty Hunters. We need you, so ease into our crap at your own pace. I’ve already heard from Gus and Clint you’re opting for a takeover of the Oaktown Cartel.”

She chuckled with a wave off gesture. “The Godfather stuff was just to yank Clint’s chain, although I wouldn’t mind being the shadowy syndicate boss behind the scenes.”

“I think it’s a perfect role for you.”

“Go easy on the celebration, Hard Case.”

“I will, Lynn.”

Jafar turned off his tablet. “She threatened me with extinction if I didn’t give her a ringside delivery of the fight. I was so worried for a while, I almost cut her off by accident. I would have been so dead.”

I put my arm around his shoulders. “Let’s get out of here, little brother. I’m sure Samira wants you with her as she orders your whipped ass around the house in the late stages of her pregnancy.”

“That’s just mean, John.”

No one else thought so. Jack Korlos joined us after making sure Hands was okay, and able to leave the cage with help from his buddies.

“I thought he had you, kid,” Jack said. “I won’t even pretend to know what kept you conscious while ramming Dragon Hands into the cage. I keep getting the uneasy feeling I really will need to sap you one of these days.”

I held out my hand, and Jack shook it. “It won’t be anything personal. Hands flipped my switch temporarily. Thanks for stopping me. I know you were looking to make sure I didn’t get killed either.”

“It was close, John. I’ll say that. See ya’ in the funny papers.” Jack walked to Hands’ cage entrance to avoid the crowd gathering outside our cage exit.

Alexi met us outside the cage with Miguel Romero’s Father, flanked by his fight game assistants Jim Bonasera and Ray Alexander. Ray was sullen, which meant he had bet against me once again. Alexi was excited to say the least. “Frank wanted to say thanks, although you nearly lost his neighborhood to the Asian Crips.”

“Tell me about it. Good to see you, Frank. How’s Miguel doing?” Frank’s son Miguel had to go through an unfortunate reeducation process with Lynn before we had him repaired at the local hospital. He turned on the gang with Lynn’s help that was trying to kill the Gomez family – Celia, Joe, and their son, Ricky. Miguel’s in the Marine Corps now, like Frank before him.