But the guy wasn't done for yet. He came at me again, this time trying to wrap his hands around my neck and choke me. I stepped up and sucker-punched him in the throat. He stumbled back, gasping for air, and a silver-stone knife from my boot ended the rest of his struggles.
With my two men eliminated, I turned my attention back to Bria and Don, who were still fighting. The two of them rolled back and forth across the pavement, punching each other, although Don didn't even grunt as Bria's blows connected with his chest. Not surprising, given his inherent dwarven toughness. Blood covered both their faces, and I couldn't tell who the majority of it belonged to. No more puffs of air sounded, and I knew that was only because Finn didn't want to risk hitting Bria with a shot meant for Don, not while they were grappling.
Good thing I had my knives for the up-close wet work.
I sprinted over to the two of them, and the second that Don got back on top of Bria, I kicked him off her. The dwarf rolled back before climbing to his feet once more, looking all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, despite his fight with Bria and the blood soaking the shoulder of his electric blue track suit.
Although I wanted nothing more than to see how badly Bria was injured, I stepped over my sister, putting myself between her and Don. Now that the other dwarves were down, I knew that Finn would come around the Dumpsters and see to her.
"Hey," I snarled. "Why don't you give me a whirl, if you really want to play?"
Don tilted his head from side to side, cracking his neck and considering me and the bloody knife in my hand. "Well, well, looks like I was right after all. The quickest way to get what I want and all the money that goes along with it is the detective here."
And then we danced.
He came at me, and I stepped up to meet him. Don was much better than I'd realized, moving with the speed and grace of a natural-born fighter and someone who'd gotten in a lot of practice along the way. The bastard had the muscled body of a true athlete, despite the cheesy nylon suit and pricey sneakers.
All of which meant that I couldn't immediately plunge my knife into him the way I wanted to. Normally, I tried to avoid this sort of hand-to-hand fight with a dwarf, as Don could do far more damage to me with his fists than I could do to him with mine. But I was still holding on to my Stone magic, still making my skin as hard as marble. His punches would hurt, but they wouldn't completely debilitate me like they would have if I wasn't using my elemental power to shield myself.
We moved back and forth on the cracked concrete, exchanging blow after blow. I punched him in the face. He landed a solid blow to my stomach. I followed with an uppercut to his chin. He turned and snapped his elbow into my chest. We broke apart, both of us bruised and more than a little bloody.
"Not bad for a dead man," I murmured. "Care to tell me what your interest is in the detective before I finish you?"
Don smiled, showing me a mouthful of bloody teeth that looked particularly garish against his swarthy skin. "Nah. What fun would that be?"
Before I could respond, he came at me again, swinging, swinging, swinging hard. I dodged his first two blows, then let the third connect on purpose. His fist thumped into my stomach again, and I crumpled to the ground in front of him. I didn't get up.
But Don wasn't as dumb as he looked because he didn't stop, not buying my ruse. He swung his leg back to kick me in the head and splat out my brains. I didn't give him the chance. As soon as he drew back, I rolled forward and used my knife to sever his femoral artery. Don screamed, but even then he got in another solid blow to my chest before the heel of his sneaker caught in a crack in the pavement, and he fell back. He writhed back and forth on the ground, cursing me and clutching his wounded leg. I stood there and watched him bleed out. It didn't take long, not with the deep, jagged wound that I'd inflicted. When he'd weakened to the point that he was no longer a threat, I leaned over and cut his throat, just to be sure.
"Why don't you leave being tough to me, and I'll let you handle being dead?" I asked in a cold voice.
Don gurgled once, almost in agreement, before his eyes glazed over and he was still.
Chapter 11
Bloody knife still in my hand, I glanced over my shoulder.
Finn had pulled off his ski mask, come around the Dumpsters, and was helping Bria sit up. He gave me a thumbs-up, telling me that Bria would be okay until we could get her to Jo-Jo to be healed. Satisfied, I turned my attention to the last man cowering-Lincoln Jenkins.
It had taken awhile, but the wannabe gangster had finally realized that the tide had turned. He'd come out from his hiding place beside the SUV and stood in front of the vehicle, eyes wide, staring down at the blood, bodies, and carnage that painted the pavement. But before I could slither over there and finish him off, the thin bastard turned and ran. I let out a curse.
"Stay here with Bria!" I shouted to Finn. "I'll get him!"
I had to get him. Jenkins had seen what had gone down here, and he almost certainly had to know that the Spider was responsible. There weren't any other women running around Ashland who were as handy with knives as I was. At least, not to my knowledge. If Jenkins didn't realize this yet, surely he would when he got somewhere safe and calmed down. Now it was my mission to make sure that he never got to that happy place.
Jenkins was quicker than he looked-much, much quicker. Must be from all that time he spent skulking around and transferring ownership of certain items. He took off like a jackrabbit across the snow, and I had to hustle to keep up with him. Despite the fact that I'd used my Stone magic to shield my body, Don had still gotten in a few good licks on me, and I could taste my own coppery blood in my mouth, as well as what felt like a broken rib scraping against my lung.
Jenkins looked back, realized that I was following him, and picked up his pace, crossing the icy street like a speed skater and disappearing into an alley on the other side. I gritted my teeth and forced myself to push the pain away and move faster, run harder. I entered the alley to find that Jenkins had gained ground on me, since the thief was already halfway down the narrow corridor, which was largely clear and free of snow. He looked back again, his eyes wide with terror.
Instead of taking advantage of his natural speed, Jenkins reached out and grabbed one of the trash cans that lined the alley. He slapped the lid off it and turned it over. All sorts of refuse spilled out of the can, and several bottles tink-tink-tinked my way. One by one, he dumped the cans over, putting all sorts of disgusting things between us. Greasy fast-food wrappers, crushed cigarettes, used condoms. The sour stench alone made me gag, but I churned through the garbage, my boots smashing everything that was underfoot.