“There is nobody in this room who can beat me.”
“You told yourself that fifty thousand dollars in Swiss factoring debt could buy your way through eighty years of honest naval bedrock.”
I leaned down until my clear hazel eyes filled the kickboxer's entire field of vision:
“You were right about one thing, Blake.”
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“Evan wasn't strong enough today.”
“The audit is complete.”
“And that spinning kick you threw into my son's ribs...”
I tapped the titanium key against his collar:
“...just audited your entire seventy-billion-dollar dynasty into Fort Leavenworth.”
“And tonight...”
I pointed toward Uncle David:
“...the transport flies straight to Fort Leavenworth.”
CLICK-CLACK.
The two federal marshals hauled Blake Haron to his feet by his armpits, marching him in waist-chains and leg-irons across the shattered glass toward the awaiting tactical transport BearCats idling in the gravel lot:
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SCREEECH.
Behind him, Harold Vance and the forty parents stood in reverent silence, watching the bully dragged into the dark.
