Page 198 of The Fourth Option
Walker adjusted to the charge and wrapped his right arm around Bates’s bald head in a front headlock. As Bates pressed the attack, Walker fell to the ground on his back, kicked his right leg up, and used the larger man’s momentum to flip Bates behind him into the wet soil.
Get your AR back in the fight before Bates finds that Glock.
Walker reached for the rifle that dangled from its sling but was close enough to see Bates grabbing for his pistol in the mud. As both men scrambled to their feet in the rain, Bates punched the Glock toward Walker, who stepped toward the weapon and pivoted to the outside. With the cop’s arm now trapped to his chest, Walker spun and threw Bates against the Charger, pinning him to the rear passenger door. He turned his left hip and used it as a fulcrum, yanking back and breaking Bates’s arm above the elbow. The Glock dropped to the ground as Bates howled in pain.
Walker continued his spin and elbowed Bates in the back of the head, hooking his arm around the cop’s throat. He then reversed directions and threw Bates over his right hip.
The cop landed on his pistol, rotated to the side, and snatched it with his offhand. Walker dropped his right knee into Bates’s stomach, catching the hand that held the weapon, but slipping off as Bates frantically tried to regain control.
As the two alpha males struggled in the mud for control of the pistol, Bates began to turn it toward the smaller SEAL.
Even with a broken arm and finger, he’s still bigger and stronger than you are.
But he’s not smarter.
Walker’s left hand wrapped around the police lieutenant’s neck, pulling it toward him while his right maintained contact with the pistol.
What would Paladin do?
Walker sank his teeth into the big man’s neck, which ignited a primal scream that reverberated through the rain. The hysteria that sets in when a primeval animal tears into one’s neck in the dark of night allowed Walker to slide away in the slick mud and then claw his way back on top of his opponent. Instead of pushing the pistol away, he pulled it toward his face and thrust his neck forward. He opened his mouth and sank histeeth into the soft flesh of Bates’s wrist. As Bates screamed and his body thrashed, Walker bit into the man’s thumb and yanked the weapon from his grasp.
Bates rolled away, his retreat halted by the Charger.
Walker stood, weapon in hand. It was one he knew well. He tapped the magazine with the heel of his left hand to ensure it was still in place. Then he stepped back and performed a press check to ensure the round was chambered, then hit the back of the slide to make sure it was in battery.
He put the Glock into his waistband at the small of his back and brought the AR back into his shoulder.
“Why can’t you just die like everyone else?” Bates roared, holding his immobilized arm to his body.
“You have something on your wrist that doesn’t belong to you,” Walker said, his breathing labored, his voice raspy.
“You bit me, you fucking savage,” Bates howled.
“The watch.”
“The fucking watch? You want the fucking watch? Here, take it,” Bates said, rolling to his knees. He removed the Tudor from his wrist with his good hand and threw it at the SEAL.
Walker caught it and slid it into his pocket.
“You lose, Bates,” Walker said.
The lieutenant glanced over Walker’s shoulder, a smile coming to his lips.
“I wouldn’t be so sure.”
Walker heard footsteps behind him and spun, rifle up, ready to engage.
“It’s me,” boomed Stanton’s voice through the wind and rain.
The FBI man was moving toward him, M4 in hand.
“What are you doing here? I thought you were going to the hospital.”
“I was. J.J. didn’t make it. She was dead before we hit the pavement.”
“Jarrett,” Bates said, “you going to arrest the most wanted man in Louisiana? You’ve got your man.”
“Don’t move, Bates,” Stanton shouted back.
