The Boy Who Glowed in the Dark

CHAPTER 18

Johnny gripped the ends of his belt in each hand. He made circles with his wrists, gathered the leather around them, and pulled the belt tight.

The man with the knife assumed a fighting stance. Legs bent, left foot in front of the right. He held the knife in his fist, blade down. He moved his hands in a circular motion, bobbed and weaved on the balls of his feet. His movements were precise. His eyes shone with intensity and confidence. He was trained. Experienced. Ex-military, Johnny thought.

Johnny had grown up a street fighter in Newark. A street fighter always had a chance. Especially when there were no guns involved. And if the Russians had guns he’d already be dead. But they weren’t on home turf. And they hadn’t been in town long enough to get them.

The man threw a left jab. Johnny deflected it with his left arm. The man circled and jabbed two more times. Johnny pushed his arm aside.

The man lunged with the knife.

Johnny stepped back. The knife came up short of his heart. A stab of fear energized his countermove. He brought the belt under the man’s wrist. Pulled up. The man resisted but Johnny gritted his teeth and pulled harder. He told himself he was stronger than the other guy. All those years in the gym. When the man groaned and stood his ground, Johnny commanded himself to insist he was stronger—

The man’s knife hand rose. Johnny kicked him in the balls.

The man groaned and doubled over. They’d both been holding their breath. Johnny gasped for air as he reared his foot back and aimed at the man’s head.

The man blocked the kick with his free arm. Exploded to his feet. Pulled his knife hand back and grabbed the belt with his free hand, both with the same motion. Thrust the blade toward Johnny’s chest.

Johnny shifted to the right and pulled back.

The blade came straight at him. And then stopped. The man had run out of reach. Johnny swung his left forearm and deflected the man’s knife hand away. He kicked with his left foot. Connected with the man’s stomach. The man recoiled but regained his footing immediately. The bastard simply would not go down. Johnny prepared to deflect another thrust of the knife—

The second man barreled into Johnny. Tackled him to the ground. Johnny crashed to the asphalt. The fall knocked the wind out of him. Pain shot through the back of his head. He tried to move but the man was too heavy. For the first time, a touch of panic gripped him. He immediately told himself to relax, and that mere thought freed his mind. Johnny wrapped the belt around the man’s neck and pulled as hard as he could. The man thrust his fingers toward Johnny’s eyes.

Johnny smashed his forehead into the man’s nose. Pulled the noose tight, wrapped his legs around the man’s ankles, and rolled hard to the left.

Johnny’s torso flipped to the top. They reversed positions. A surge of hope. He was on top. He had the advantage— The first man. Where was the first man?

A sense of dread seized him. He knew he was about to be killed even before he felt the weight of the first man on his back, the fist crashing down the back of his neck. The force of the blow left him barely conscious. It twisted his neck to the right, just enough for him to see the knife being raised above his head.

At the same time, his hands went slack. The second man, beneath him, coughed and spit in his face. Johnny felt his airways constrained. He realized the second man was now choking him from below.

A kaleidoscope of memories flashed through his mind. They ended with Nadia, laughing at something he’d said, eyes sparkling and lips open. God how he loved those eyes. She was speaking but he couldn’t hear any words, all he knew was that she was happy and carefree, the way he longed for her to be.

Except she wasn’t happy or carefree. She was about to be killed, too.

A burst of adrenaline awakened him. He tried to breathe but couldn’t. A knife was about to plunge into his back. Nadia was going to die, too.

A split second left.

Do something.