He closed the distance fast, dropping his level with beautiful athletic precision. He shot a double-leg takedown, driving his shoulder squarely into my midsection, his hands clasping behind my knees. It was a perfect collegiate entry. If I had tried to backpedal, he would have dumped me directly onto my spine. I didn’t backpedal. I…
It was a textbook strike, meant to score points in a controlled tournament. I didn’t block it. I trapped his leg under my arm, yanked him completely off balance, and drove my elbow straight toward his knee. Daniel twisted frantically in mid-air, pulling free just before I could hyperextend the joint. He scrambled backward, his…
Arthur didn’t back away. He did something that violated every instinct of a trained sport fighter. He stepped entirely inside the arc of the strike. By driving his weight forward, Arthur jammed the trajectory before it could generate any velocity. Weston’s shin merely slapped against Arthur’s hip with a dull, harmless thud. But Arthur wasn’t…
I pressed inward and upward, hard. Trent choked, his gag reflex firing violently. His hands instantly unclasped from my neck as his brain screamed at him to protect his airway. Freed from the clinch, I didn’t throw a punch. I grabbed the back of Trent’s head with my left hand, tangling my thick, grease-stained fingers…
As Trent’s massive arm swung through the empty space where Frank’s head had been a millisecond before, Frank raised his left forearm. He sharply checked Trent’s bicep, completely neutralizing the boy’s violent momentum. The gym echoed with the meaty smack of flesh on flesh. Trent was instantly off-balance, his body weight carrying him wildly past…
It wasn’t a judo throw. It was a brutal, pragmatic trip. Trent hit the mat hard, all the air rushing out of his lungs in a violent whoosh. Before he could even realize he was on the ground, I was on top of him. I wasn’t looking to pass his guard. I wasn’t looking to…
I move diagonally, a sharp mechanical pivot off the center line, slipping completely inside the arc of his wide punch. The heavy fist whistles past my left ear, close enough to rustle my hair. Because he had put all his 220 pounds of weight into the swing and hit nothing but damp, cold air, his…
I gripped the yoke, locked my eyes on the radar, and pulled the throttles back. Simultaneously, I deployed the speed brakes. I didn’t ease into it. I executed a maneuver no commercial pilot would ever attempt in a massive Boeing passenger plane. I completely cut our forward momentum and let the aircraft drop out of…
“Any military aircraft on this frequency? This is Falcon. I am aboard United Airlines flight 2291 out of Dallas. We have catastrophic engine failure in progress. Both engines compromised. 209 souls aboard. Requesting immediate military assistance and priority landing coordination. Falcon, over.” I released the transmit button. For four agonizing seconds, there was nothing but…
Mrs. Kowalsski’s gasp cut through the catered living room like a gunshot. She wasn’t looking at a scrapbook. She was staring directly at the gold-embossed watermark inside the heavy red ledger. It was the official executive ownership seal of Regional Trust Bank. Beneath it, stamped in uncompromising black ink, was a single name: Ezra Blackstone,…
End of content
End of content