“Well, we’re closed,” I finally said. “Unless you want a cup of coffee for the road, you’d better go.”
Hawk-face shook his head. “He owes us money.”
“He borrowed from you?” I looked at Eddie, who shook his head slightly.
“Not your business,” Hawk-face said.
“I see. Protection money, then.”
“Businesses need protection.” Hawk-face smiled. “It’s a tough neighborhood.”
“It’s not a Polish neighborhood,” I told him.
His face darkened. “We are not polski.”
I pointed at Jiri. “His name is Polish. It means George.”
“We are cesky.”
Czechs? I hadn’t expected that. “Same thing,” I said with a shrug, knowing goddamn well that it was very different. At least to them. “Either way, this is an Irish block and this is an Irish diner. So maybe you should leave.”
Hawk-face stared at me a few moments longer. Recognition seeped into his narrow features. “I know you,” he said, though I could tell he didn’t yet. But he recognized me. That much I could see. He just hadn’t placed me yet.
“Well, I don’t know you,” I said. “And if you leave now, I never did.”
He continued to stare. Then Jiri said two words-“Sawyer bratr”-and Hawk-face smiled.
“That’s right,” he said. “Jiri knows. You are one of Gar Sawyer’s sons. With the different mothers.”
I didn’t answer, but I knew what was coming next.
“You’re the Irish one,” Hawk-face said. “The one who was a cop.”
Right then, whatever hope of this ending well went right out the window. And just like with Connie, I should have seen that walking in.
I walked toward Hawk-face in a steady, fast stride. He watched me come, but his hands slipped to his waist band. Jiri started to move away from Eddie, but the owner read my obvious play and kicked the larger man in the knee. Jiri grunted and turned his attention back to Eddie. I focused on Hawk-face.
He was quicker than I expected. His hand flashed out from beneath his jacket. If he’d been carrying heat, I would’ve been dead. Instead, he snapped open a silver blade with a solid click and held it out.
“Come on, pig,” he said, his voice dropping to a low hiss. He waved the blade back and forth in front of him. “Show me what you got.”
I wasn’t as big as when I went through the police academy years ago and probably not as strong, either. But I was faster. And meaner.
I raised my hands defensively, masking the motion of my leg. I lashed out with a foot, landing a thundering blast on Hawk-face’s upper leg. He let out a cry of pained surprise. The flowing motion of the knife froze in mid-air. I reached out, grasped his wrist and twisted it as hard as I could. I felt rather than heard the resounding pop that came next.
“Sakra!” he yelled.
His knees gave way and he started to fall. I helped him with an arm bar, slamming him into the linoleum. His breath came out in a loud woof.
I let go immediately and stood up to face Jiri, who I knew would be coming hard. Sure enough, the muscle bound prick was barreling toward me. Eddie clung to one arm, blood flowing from his nose and mouth. The tough little bastard was reaching for a bicep with his teeth bared, looking to lay a bite on Jiri.
Jiri was a big guy and like most big guys, he came at me without any caution. I fired a left at his nose, landing a light shot. My right came blasting in right after. I timed it perfectly. His forward motion and my fist combined for a hellacious punch that stopped him cold in his tracks. The force of the blow reverberated up my arm and into my shoulder.
I didn’t hesitate. Like a jackhammer, I alternated lefts and rights straight down his middle. Throat, solar plexus and stomach, then a hard, right upper cut to the balls.
Jiri didn’t fall, but he hunched over after the final punch.
Eddie bit his bicep.
I drove my knee up into his face.
Jiri let out a guttural cry of pain. Blood gushed out of his nose. His hands flew to his face.
I turned back to Hawk-face, who was starting to push himself up. I threw two booming kicks into his side. There was no technique, just brute force and all that I could muster. He fell back to the ground, curling up in a ball.
Jiri let out another painful grunt. I turned to see him shove Eddie aside as the smaller man tried to get his mouth on Jiri’s bicep again. Eddie staggered back. He looked at me, then at Jiri and Hawk-face, wondering what to do next.
I reached down and picked up the knife. There was a piece of me that wanted to jam the blade into Jiri’s chest and yell, “See? This is who the fuck I am!” But I didn’t. Maybe I wasn’t a cop anymore, but I didn’t want to spend the next fifty years on the run or in a prison cell, either.
I closed the blade and tossed the knife to Eddie. He juggled twice but finally caught it.
“Get up,” I told Hawk-face. “Get up and get the fuck out.”
Hawk-face groaned but didn’t move. Jiri pulled his hands away from his face. They were covered in blood, but the bleeding from his nose had already stopped. He was warrior stock, this one. I think that if it weren’t for the fact that Hawk-face was clearly in charge, Jiri would’ve fought to the death. Because for guys like him, every fight is to the death.
Reluctantly, Jiri seemed to accept that this was over. He reached down and helped Hawk-face to his feet. His motions were gentle.
“You broke my fucking rib, you cocksucker,” Hawk-face sputtered.
I ignored his words. “Don’t come back,” I said. “We’ll go to the Irish for protection. Even if they’re not interested, the Polacks will be. Either one of them will do more than bust your ribs. They’ll kill you and your boss. So stay the fuck away.”
Jiri helped Hawk-face toward the door. The smaller man sneered at me. “You might be right, you cop fuck. The micks can have this pile of shit place. But that doesn’t protect you. And I’ll see you again.”
I didn’t answer. Jiri supported Hawk-face as they went out the door.
“I’ll see you again, kunda,” Hawk-face said as the door swung shut.
When they were out of sight, I looked over at Eddie. He still seemed stunned.
“You don’t have the Irish looking after this place?” I asked him.
He shook himself from his reverie. “Course I do,” he snorted. He pulled a white towel from his apron and wiped the blood from his face.
I sighed. If I’d known that, I would’ve let them take the money and leave. Eddie could report it to whoever he paid protection to and they’d deal with the Czechs. Now I had two more enemies in this world.
Eddie pointed at my hands. “You need ice?”
I glanced down at my knuckles and flexed both hands. They hurt a little but nothing serious. Most of my targets had been soft ones, and I landed them right.
“No, I’m good.”
Eddie nodded. He took a deep breath and let it out. “Jesus. Thanks, Mick.”
“You’re welcome,” I said, though I didn’t feel it. I should’ve known he paid the Irish, but I guess you miss a few things when you’re on the grill and busy banging the waitress.
That made me think of Connie. I turned toward the kitchen. She stood near the doorway, her cell phone perched in her hand. I could see the question on her face. Should she call 9-1-1? But it’d been over too fast.
I looked back at Eddie and shrugged. “I’ll see you tomorrow, boss.”
“Yeah,” Eddie said. “See you tomorrow.”
I headed back toward the kitchen and the alley exit, because this time I wanted to walk past Connie. I wanted to smell her perfume. I wanted her to smell the sweat on me. Let her know some regret. Because I knew full well who was going to be looking for a job in a few days, and it wasn’t me.