"Incoming Nine o'clock!" I cried, both Jake and I turned to meet the threat which consisted of three goons with hate in their eyes. Jake was always pretty good with Karate, something he told me he had been doing since high school. The first man received Jake's right boot right in the face knocking him backward into one of the men behind him sending both backward into the street. The third man was now pulling a very large and wicked looking knife hell bent on slicing me up . I happened to have the Springfield in my hand so I did the only thing I could do was quickly grab it by the barrel and use it as a club. The man screamed,
"You don't treat Mr. Swearingen like that, you son-of-a-bitch, we're gonna teach you a lesson." I brought the rifle stock right across his outstretched arm, he was able to move it just enough so that I missed his arm but caught the knife at the blade causing it to fly out of his hand. This only enraged him even more as he tried to grab me. In the meantime Jake managed to jump aside and pull his 9mm as the other two men were starting to charge him.
He later told me that the sight of his 9mm must have confused the two into thinking that he didn't have a real gun, as one man pulled his gun and the other a knife.
"I had no choice man," he said, I just dumped a whole magazine on them, what the fuck could I do?" In any case both men were propelled backwards into the street,"Pop, pop, pop pop, and two men lay dead. Their partner didn't realize that his buddies were dead as he tried to grab my shirt in order to deliver a punch with his left hand. I managed to twist to my left and deliver a kick to the inside of his left knee. He immediately went down giving me time to draw my .45 as I screamed
"Stay down fucker or I'll kill you!"