Ventura take the blast in the chest and bang into the steering wheel, but he managed to get off another shot that seemed to hit the shotgunner without major effect. The shotgunner let go a third blast—
Ventura disappeared from view—
Michaels realized he was screaming, as the shotgunner turned his head and stared at him in surprise. He started to bring the shotgun around, and it was too far for a taser shot, but Michaels triggered the thing anyway. Twin silvery needles lanced at the shotgunner—he could see the electric darts—but they hit the shotgun, one in the butt, one in the forestock, and that wouldn’t do shit—
The shotgun’s muzzle came around, slowly ... slowly ... and it was almost lined up when the shooter realized Michaels was about to barrel into him at a dead run, so he fired—
Too soon! The blast went past Michaels’s right ear; he felt a tug and a quick burn, but that was all, and then he slammed into the shooter at a dead run and they both went down—
The impact stunned them both, but Michaels recovered first. He rolled up and kicked at the other man’s head. He missed, but caught a shoulder as the shotgunner tried to roll away—
The shotgun was on the street five yards down the hill.
Michaels was aware that Bubba was on the other side of the truck, probably reloading his pistol, and that he didn’t have time to fool around here. The shotgunner came up, groggy, hands rising in a defensive posture, and Michaels didn’t wait, but leaped in and snapped his elbow right at the man’s temple, as hard as he could. There was a damp snap! and the man went down bonelessly limp, but Bubba was coming around the front of the truck, Bubba and his pistol, and Michaels knew he was screwed—
He was going to die—
Somebody flew out of nowhere and slammed into Bubba from behind, knocking his pistol loose as he went to one knee. His attacker dived and rolled up, two yards past Bubba, spun to face him—
Michaels stared, unable to believe what he saw.
Toni?!
The big man went down to his knee, and she had too much momentum to stop, so Toni stretched out into a shoulder roll, hit the road hard enough to clack her teeth together, but came up mostly unhurt. Shoulder was gonna be real sore—assuming she survived that long.
The big man was up, coming at her. He swung a punch that would have flattened a horse had it hit, a hard right cross—
Toni ducked, double-tapped the man’s thick and muscular arm with her left palm and right backhand, used the momentum of the second tap to cock her elbow, and stepped in at an angle to her left—he was too big to meet head-on—then slammed her right elbow into his ribs.
She felt the ribs go, heard him grunt and slow his advance a little, but it wasn’t enough to stop him; he kept coming. He was too big, too strong—if he grabbed her, that would be bad—
Too close for the foot sweep, she had to use her thigh. She caught his upper leg with hers, snapped her knee upward, and shoved with her right hand at his belt line—
The seesaw lever worked. He lost his balance and sprawled facedown on the street, hands outstretched to absorb his fall—
Toni followed him. When he lifted his head, she kicked for his chin, but he fell away and blocked at the same time, and her shin met his left forearm bone—
His arm was weaker. The ulna snapped—
Damn, he was tough. He grabbed at her foot, missed when she dodged back, and used the grab’s moment to regain his feet. He jumped in again and fired a hard straight punch, using his good right arm—
Toni was in the zone, fighting in a righteous rage, no longer thinking, blending with her attacker. She punched her right fist at his head, stretched out over his punch, and blocked with her left at the same time, deflecting his arm just behind the elbow. Her punch hit his ear, no big impact, but she was in position for the putar kepala—the head twist. She scooped inside his right elbow with her left hand, caught his neck with her right, and circled her hands, left up, right down, pulling them close into her body as she dropped her weight. The motion twisted him around clockwise, and she grabbed his head with both hands.
A twist alone was a neck crank,