“Seriously?” Miki took a breath and hefted the shillelagh into a tight grip. “You are more fucked up than he was.”
It wasn’t a fair fight, not with the years Miki spent on the street and singing at backwater bars where his pretty face drew more animosity than compliments. The shillelagh’s weighted end was something he’d never have used in a bar fight, but Miki wasn’t going to split hairs. He was more interested in splitting open Andrew’s head.
He swung, a fierce upswing that would have done any homerun hitter proud. Connecting with Andrew square in the teeth, Miki grunted when he stepped forward to follow through. He tried keeping his eyes on the gun, but it slid around too much for Miki to watch, and then, when he cocked his stance for another hit, Andrew wavered and squeezed the trigger.
The shot went wide, but Miki’s swing connected hard, and Andrew went flying backward, landing in the dried grass, speckled with his blood and spit.
“Drop the fucking gun!” Miki screamed at him.
Andrew’s answer was to bring it up and fire again.
Miki felt the bullet hit his jacket shoulder, but other than the burn of leather in his nose, he was pretty certain Andrew missed. The second shot didn’t. It pinged off the shillelagh and shattered the bulbous knob at the end of the shaft. The lead weight drilled down into the wood and scattered splinters into Miki’s hands and cheek.
It was enough for Miki, and holding on to the wooden shaft with one hand, he flung the shillelagh at Andrew’s head, bashing him across the nose with the truncated shaft, then balled up his other fist to deliver another blow. His fingers took the shock of striking bone with a jolt, and Miki’s stomach turned at the crunching sounds Andrew’s face made when hit. He tangled his legs into Andrew’s and they both went down, fists flailing wildly. The shillelagh was lost somewhere in the grass near Miki’s feet, but he didn’t care. Not when the other man still held the gun in his hand.
Andrew’s knee came up and caught Miki’s balls. The sharp impact squeezed his sac into his thigh, his jeans forming an unforgiving brace of pain when Andrew jabbed at him again. Roiling nausea struck Miki’s stomach, then the curling sensation of his dick being peeled apart hit and Miki gacked, choking on the back of his tongue.
He rolled, trying to separate himself from Andrew, but the man held on tight, jabbing his knee up again. This time, the hard stab caught Miki on his injured knee and he screamed, his world turning a bright pinkish red. Miki hadn’t felt as heavy a pain since he’d been in Carl’s hands. It wasn’t a pleasant memory, and the angry uselessness he felt back then resurrected itself, sinking its venomous teeth into his will.
“Yeah, fucker,” Miki panted. Spitting out the pain-thickened saliva pooling in his mouth, he shoved himself past the wall of ache to grab Andrew by the throat. “I’m not taking any of your shit.”
The roughness of the grass under his other hand reminded Miki he wasn’t gripping pilled cotton sheets to keep from shoving at Carl’s heavy body. It was worse when he fought back then. Now it was retribution. He’d come too far, endured too much to let Andrew Coons take his freedom away from him.
Especially when, somewhere out in the city, Kane was waiting for him.
His fists were enough. They were going to have to be. Shoving Andrew back with all of his might, Miki straddled the man’s knees, pinning him to the ground, and began to whale away.
Miki’s knuckles bit into Andrew’s face, pummeling the meat beneath his skin until it glowed red from the sharp impacts. He didn’t care if he could hold onto the man long enough to make him see reason. Reason was a lost cause. The only thing Miki wanted from the other man was blood.
And even then, he might want more.
It was too much to take in. The pain in his legs mingling with the burning fire coming up from his hands and ripping through his shoulders. Andrew’s hands shoved at his chest, trying to get Miki off of him, but the singer hooked his ankles under the man’s knees, anchoring himself in place. Retaliating, Andrew balled up his hands and struck Miki where he could reach, slamming his fists into Miki’s shoulders and knees.
Andrew got a few good licks in. Miki’s head snapped back when his chin took a hit, and there was a taste of blood on Miki’s lip from another errant blow, but it wasn’t enough to make Miki stop. He couldn’t risk it. He finally had too much to lose.