Page 146 of Sins of Innocence

The second guy lunges.

I pivot, slam the heel of my hand into his nose hard enough blood sprays across the sidewalk, then kick the side of his knee.

Pop.

Screaming, he crumples to the sidewalk.

People nearby start yelling and running. Some are probably recording this on their phones too. That's a level two cleanup.

Damn it.

One of the guys coming from the coffee shop is brandishing a knife now.

I make a gimme motion with my hand and dare him with my eyes to bring it.

This time all three of the men still standing rush me at once. It's an improvement on their battle strategy to this point, but it won't save them.

Knife guy comes low and fast while his buddy swings a pipe high at my head but the other one sidesteps.

Instead of backing off, I step directly into the knife's path, invading his space. I trap the knife wrist with my left hand, hook my right arm over his shoulder, and violently pivot his weight into the trajectory of the pipe.

Crack.

The iron pipe smashes squarely into Knife Guy’s collarbone. He drops like a stone, unconscious from the shock. I rip the pipe out of the third guy's grip before he can recover his balance.

The guy lets go too easily, but dives for the gun still on the sidewalk.

"Watch out, Kieran," Áine yells. "He's going for the gun."

I love that my sweet wife is worried about me, but my eyes are already locked on the first idiot crawling toward the dropped piece. Without looking away from the target, I heave the iron pipe like a javelin. It catches him dead center between the shoulder blades with a hollow thud that ejects all the air from his lungs.

He skids face-first across the pavement, completely neutralized.

The guy whose knee I kicked earlier is still writhing on the pavement clutching his leg and the first idiot is on hands and knees choking around a crushed throat.

But there's still one left standing, and he's trying to get to Áine.

Using a hand on the stone balustrade, he vaults over it to land on the steps behind me. I'm already turning and have an arm around his waist before he takes a single step up.

"No," I growl before tossing him away from the steps and Áine.

He lands with a hard thump on his back on the sidewalk. It knocks the wind out of him and he flounders there, his eyes darting wildly around.

He's young. They all are. Early twenties maybe. His gaze flicks past me toward his incapacitated friends.

Something flickers in his gaze and I turn just in time to see pipe guy grab the gun and point it at Áine.

Not me. The threat.

My woman.

An animalistic roar erupts out of me and I leap for the motherfucker trying to shoot my wife. His eyes widen in terror but he pulls the trigger on the gun.

It feels like someone got a hit in with a baseball bat and heat sears my upper arm. I stumble, but before he can get another shot off, I'm on him, my fingers wrapping around his wrist. I squeeze and twist.

There's a wet crunch but I don’t stop twisting until his screams are louder than my roars and his hand dangles uselessly from his destroyed wrist. Then I clock him, knocking him out with a single blow before turning back to the guy I left floundering on the sidewalk.

He's up on his feet, swaying, a knife in his hand. He takes a step in Áine's direction, looks at me, then at his friends, turns and runs with an unsteady gait in the opposite direction.