there was violence, she didn’t want to miss it.
She did not, however, draw out a fight unnecessarily.
Sascha Green was taller than her, probably a little stronger too. She had no doubt that he would kill her if she gave him the opportunity.
Lola swept her rifle back on the sling the moment Green ducked his head to rush her, parking the gun over her kidney again. She grabbed the expandable baton from her belt and flicked it open with a snap of her wrist, extending the rigid metal sections to a full twenty-one inches.
She stepped to her left at the last second, moving off the line of attack like a bullfighter. Green rushed past, exposing his calf and getting a snap from Lola’s steel baton. She let the blow die there a split second for maximum effect, then hammered him again before he could recover, following up to his forearm when he turned. Dropping his right arm at the blow, he came around with a wicked left that glanced off the point of her shoulder and crashed into the side of her neck, making her bite her tongue. Green was blind with rage and pain, making the strike a Hail Mary, thrown wildly at the wind, but it connected and proved devastating.
Stunned, Lola dropped the expandable baton. Getting hit in the brachial nerves was a hell of a lot like grabbing a handful of electric fence, and she was lucky to keep her feet. Exhaling hard, she spat a mouthful of blood, feeling it get torn away in the wind. Sascha was on her again in an instant. She raised both arms, warding off blow after blow meant to knock her out. Sascha grabbed her by both shoulders, attempting to drive a knee into her groin. She managed to twist sideways, taking the knee on her thigh, and getting the sinking feeling that it had done some real damage.
Jolene screamed for him to stop. The judge rushed in again, landing at least one more good punch before Green knocked him back with an elbow to the nose. Markham fell back on his knees, still conscious enough to spew curses into the blizzard. Lola used the few moments to shake off the pain in her neck and hip. She needed to finish this quickly or risk getting her ass kicked—at which point Sascha Green would likely kill her, judge or no judge, Jolene or no Jolene. That much was clear in his eyes.
He turned toward her, chest heaving inside his open parka. His lips drew back in a vile sneer, revealing bloody teeth. Someone had connected.
Thick black hair blowing like a curtain across her face, Lola bent slightly forward at the waist, shoulders rounded, hands loose and low. She’d been described as beautiful many times; men hit on her often when she went out with friends. But those same Polynesian eyes and prominent cheekbones above full lips could be terrifying if twisted into her warring haka face. She’d once made one of her nieces break into tears. Lola wanted Sascha Green to believe her to be a weak thing—not a woman who relished battle.
She did her best to keep her face relaxed, fighting the natural urge to open her eyes wide in challenge and sneer at the evil creature in front of her. She wanted him to rush in, thinking he’d won. Then, she’d arrest him if she could. If not, she’d beat him to death—judge or no judge. Jolene or no Jolene.
He charged in again, a little farther out than suited her. He grazed her belly with a sloppy right as she turned to let him go by. The blow would hurt later, but she barely felt it now. Green slid on the ice, waving his arms to keep from falling. Lola moved directly in front of him now, presenting the tantalizing target of a woman who didn’t know what she was doing. He’d no sooner stopped flapping his arms than he rushed her again, but this time he was over the same patch of ice he’d just slipped on.
Lola took quick advantage, planting her back foot on solid ground while she drove her right knee into a startled Green’s groin three times before he could arrest his forward momentum. He screamed, doubling over in agony, and when he did, Lola Teariki’s knee was there to meet his face. Her hands came down at the same time her leg came up, catching Sascha’s parka hood on both sides and slamming it