“Roll, Cheese!”
I reacted instantly to Lynn’s scream at the cage. I heard something hit the mat where I had been a split-second before. I held a hand over my eyes to shield the lighting as I looked upward in time to see a dark figure in the rigging above. A shot sounded. The dark figure in the rigging pitched out of his nest silently to the floor below. I crab crawled to the spot I heard hit. I plucked a tiny dart from the mat while Knowly tried to get to his feet, still groggy from the naked choke I practiced on him before the dart incident. I took the dart to the cage where Tommy took it from me.
“Be right back,” I told him. I scrambled around between Knowly and his crew as he regained his feet. I saw Gus Denova, Casey, and Lynn move on the corner crew.
“Hey, Betty,” Lynn called to him from his corner. Casey covered the crew. “Best if you kneel and say your prayers, pussy. Lucas told me to tell you not to worry about any more payback. He’s pissed though because Nightshot here nailed the prick in the dark right between the eyes. Denny and Lucas have the Nejems.”
I heard Casey chuckle in the dead silence after his killing of the dart shooter. No one in the crowd moved. I smiled at Knowly with a hand wave acknowledgement to Lynn. Knowly searched for escape no longer available. Alexi stood near Tommy on my side of the cage, motioning Jack away. “It looks like it’s just you and me, Mohammed. Tell me how you came to this dirty business and I kick your ass but let you live. Dummy up, and I kill you right here in the cage.”
What made Knowly an MMA Champion surfaced in a mean faced determined look. “The fifty grand was to make sure we had a shot at ending you, Harding. The Nejem’s didn’t want you beat. They wanted you dead. I plan to complete the contract no matter what.”
I heard Lynn’s cackle behind me. “Take my advice, Betty. Get on your knees and pray. Cheese has a soft spot for Christians.”
“I ain’t no fuckin’ Christian! Allahu Akbar!” He charged.
I leaped to land a flying knee square on his charging face, smashing it to pulp. He dropped as if hit by a sledge hammer in the side of the head, spurting blood from his ruined face. I could see he could still suck wind at the mouth so I turned him to his side. I motioned at Jack to call the fight. He did, while beckoning to the medical team Alexi employed now on a regular basis. They entered the cage from my corner with collapsible stretcher/gurney. While they began triage on Knowly, I walked over to where Lynn and Casey entertained the Knowly crew of bowtied idiots.
“Thanks, Nightshot. Good call, Lynn.”
“We knew something was up,” Lynn said. “We watched the Nejem bunch like hawks. They started glancing into the rigging above between rounds. So did we. What do want to do with these other pussies?”
“I think I’ll let Denny have them. I don’t know what we could get out of them. We have no choice with the Nejems.”
“Agreed. See you outside. Lucas, Denny, Sylvio, and Quays have the Nejems. C’mon, Nightshot, let’s get these clucks ready for transport while Earl and ‘Rique are busy mooning over your handy-work.”
“On your knees with fingers locked behind your heads, boys,” Casey ordered. “Drop now or I shoot you all in the head. You’ve heard of James Bond, double zero designation with license to kill, right? I’m double ought Nightshot. I have the same license in reality. Don’t test me.”
Knowly’s crew dropped. He grinned at me. “We’re even again, brother, from the ocean save.”
“You know you weren’t on the pad for that, brother. We’re hitting The Warehouse after this mess is over.”
“Amen to that.”
*
We arrived at The Warehouse in style after shipping the bowties, dart, dart-gun, and dart shooter with the police. The minions escorted the Nejems to Pain Central for a debriefing on Sunday. We picked them up at Pain Central in the limo with Jafar driving after the deposit in our holding cells. The Warehouse was Saturday night busy, so we snuggled into our corner at the very end of the bar with Marla already serving shots, beers, and wine for Lynn and Samira. It was only after jovially clinking glasses to my survival that I noticed the hulking figure at a table near us with bowler hat and two companions dressed in dark suits and ties. He grinned at me. It was Rock Costigan, the UFC Heavyweight Champion, in my damn bar once again. Lynn of course noticed. She notices everything.
“Well damn, Cheese,” Lynn whispered to me with Clint chuckling at her side. “Aren’t you just a font of entertainment tonight? I didn’t get to kill anything at the fight. Let me slice these three bozos into bite-sized bits for deposit later.”