Page 37 of Embriagado

“Because you seem to like having me around.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. Not that I blame you.” I paused, noticing we were driving into a dead end. “You sure that was the right turn?”

“Yeah, oh, wait.” He tapped his phone, an annoyed look on his face. “I have no reception… Hold on a second, I’ll turn my phone off.”

“I’ll just reverse while you’re at it,” I said as this crappy alley was too narrow to make a U-turn. Checking the mirrors, I shifted gear into reverse and began driving when out of nowhere, two men walked behind the van.

What the fuck?

I slammed the brakes so fast Ariyan’s head jerked forward, his phone dropping.

“Mr. Rivas⁠—”

“Hold on,” I told him, eyes narrowed at those men who, suspiciously enough, were dressed all in black.

Shit.

And just as things got bad, they turned worse when three more men walked in front of the van.

“What’s going on?” Ariyan asked after he picked up his phone, his voice on edge.

Well, I couldn’t blame him for stressing out, as I assumed shit like this didn’t happen where he grew up.

“Looks like we’re being carjacked,” I said when his face paled.

“What?”

“Don’t worry.” I unbuckled myself.

From the looks of it, those assholes were only carrying knives and some iron rods, which I knew how to handle just fine.

“What do you mean ‘don’t worry’?” he gasped. “I’m calling the police⁠—”

Placing my hand on his phone, I lowered it. “By the time the cops get here, these guys will be long gone. So, just stay here, okay?”

His eyes widened, pure fear taking over them. “What are you going to— Mr. Rivas!” he shouted as I reached to open the door, then clenched my shirt and tried stopping me. “You can’t go out there. They’re armed⁠—”

“Yeah, with knives.” I placed my hand on top of his, giving him a soft squeeze before I untangled his clutch.

His lips fell open, but knowing he had no reason to worry, I shot him a slight smile, then got out of the van, shutting the door behind me.

Let’s hope they really weren’t loaded.

“Qué problema tienen,” I said, and wasn’t surprised at all when I was answered with a raised knife.

My eyes darted from one man to another, counting five in total. So far, no guns.

Sweet.

The first guy charged at me. That moron didn’t even know how to hold up a knife, making it almost unfair when I disarmed him, yet not enough to stop me from punching him in the face and knocking him out cold. It didn’t seem like his friends got the memo, and instead of giving up, two others ran at me with raised rods. While my footwork was a bit rusty after I’d neglected my training for the last few years, I dodged the first guy, got into position, then left-hooked the ever-living shit out of him, quickly positioning back to avoid his friend’s assault, and also sending him to the ground with a jab to his throat. The guy flipped backward, the rod falling from his hands as he clung to his neck, gasping for air.

Serves him right.

The thing was that most people had no clue what it was like fighting a professional boxer. You’d think knocking a man out was hard, but you’d be surprised how easy it was. Getting punched by someone who knew his game was as fatal as getting shot. And I fucking loved it. I loved how lethal I could get with my bare fists.

Now down to two men, one of them came at me from the back, but I moved fast enough that his knife only scratched my arm. He was also a moron, and I got the knife from his hold, tossing it away before throwing a perfect overhand punch that hit him across the face. His eyes rolled backward, and he immediately crashed, leaving me down to the last man. To be fair, I expected more, but sadly, I didn’t even break a sweat. Disappointed, I planned to unleash my frustration on this asshole who was swinging the metal rod in front of him like he planned on hitting some fucking piñata.