Читать книгу Defense Breach - Don Pendleton - Страница 2

The Executioner instinctively jerked his head to one side as the man’s fist jabbed the air, passing a hair’s width from his face. With the breeze from the missed blow caressing his cheek, Bolan took a quick step forward, driving a handful of stiff fingers into his attacker’s throat. The man coughed and clutched at his neck with both hands, stumbling back a few feet. His legs buckled and he fell to one knee, fighting to suck in air.

Before the man’s partner could react, Bolan unleashed a rapid flurry of short punches to his face. The man attempted to strike back, but he was falling away from the volley, his momentum pulling him in the wrong direction. His return jabs landed harmlessly on Bolan’s muscular forearms.

The warrior stepped back to place a little distance between them. His victim staggered, breathing raggedly. As he spat a thick glob of bloody phlegm toward Bolan, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a switchblade. He didn’t know it, but he was about to learn a lesson in arms proliferation—escalation always leads to greater violence.