Cajun Justice(62)

“It’s okay, Watanabe-san,” Bonnie said, trying to ease everyone’s tension. “This is my—” Before she could say “brother,” Watanabe told Cain, “Go find your own whore.”

Instantly Cain smashed his fist into Watanabe’s face, breaking his rose-colored sunglasses and sending him to the floor. Blood gushed from his broken nose.

Bonnie grabbed Cain and told him to stop as he was advancing toward Watanabe.

“Since when are you okay with being called a whore?” he asked his sister.

“We’ve got to get out of here,” Tanaka frantically yelled.

Before Bonnie could respond, two of Watanabe’s thugs who had been closely watching the ordeal from the crowd rushed toward Cain. One came behind him and put him in a bear hug. Cain was much bigger in height and bulk and his adrenaline was in overdrive, but this was two against one. He struggled to break free until he grabbed his attacker’s index finger and bent it back until he heard it snap like a twig. The man hollered in pain and released his hold.

Free from the bear hug, Cain turned around and stepped back a few feet to gain distance from his attackers. The one holding his broken finger was trying desperately to ease the pain, with no success. The other attacker lunged toward Cain with both hands outstretched to choke him. Cain raised his arms in a V shape and deflected the man’s momentum to the side, simultaneously jamming a knee into the advancing attacker’s solar plexus. The air left the man’s lungs and he bent forward and crumbled to the floor.

Watanabe was wiping blood from his face with his hand. “You broke my nose! You’re dead, gaijin.” He pulled back and launched a wild punch toward the left side of Cain’s face. Cain instinctively crouched and ducked under the punch. He stood back up and shoved the heel of his palm into Watanabe’s nose. The forceful strike propelled Watanabe backward. He crashed into a table and knocked over customers’ drinks and snacks.

“He’s got a knife!” Tanaka yelled out, and pointed.

Cain lifted both of his arms to protect his vital organs while he scanned the crowded bar area for the knife-wielding attacker.

The thug who had been kneed in the solar plexus had regained his breath and pulled out a shiny butterfly knife. He flipped it open, exposing the sharp blade. He slashed it twice toward Cain’s face, but Cain backstepped twice, narrowly avoiding getting cut. The attacker became impatient and lunged at Cain, thrusting the four-inch blade toward Cain’s heart. Cain sidestepped to the left and then propelled his right foot toward the attacker’s knee. Cain’s boot pushed through the attacker’s kneecap, instantly sending the man to the ground.

“Aaaaaaaayyyyy!” The fallen assailant dropped the knife and gripped his knee. He continued yelling out in pain as he flopped around on the floor like a fish out of water.

Cain was breathing heavily and assessing the damage. He saw the butterfly knife on the floor so he kicked it. He was watching it slide across the floor and under a table when Watanabe surprised him from behind, wrapping his arm around Cain’s throat. Cain tried to loosen Watanabe’s choke hold but couldn’t. Cain purposely dropped all his body weight like a sack of potatoes, forcing the men to collide on the ground. When they hit the floor, Watanabe lost his grip and Cain gulped for air.

In the struggle, Watanabe’s bloodied white dress shirt got ripped off, exposing very detailed tattoos covering most of his body. Cain had seen artwork like that only once before, but these particular depictions were seared into his mind. Across Watanabe’s chest was a fire-breathing dragon wrapping its tail around a white-faced geisha gasping for air. His back tattoo was of a falcon, wings spread out and talons clutching a bloodstained samurai sword.

They continued wrestling on the ground. Cain was used to American boxing and the skills he had learned at the Secret Service academy, but Watanabe was clearly experienced in Japanese judo. He was getting the better of Cain. Watanabe was keeping Cain close to him so Cain couldn’t use his strength or distance to pummel his assailant with powerful punches. As Watanabe wrapped his long, lean, and muscular arms around Cain’s throat again, Cain noticed that he was missing the pinky finger on his hand. Watanabe began to squeeze tighter and tighter. Cain’s face turned red and his eyes began watering as they bulged. The entire room started getting dark.

He had begun to black out when Watanabe’s grip suddenly and unexpectedly released. Tanaka had grabbed their half-drunk bottle of Dom Pérignon off their table and swung it full force into the back of Watanabe’s head. The glass shattered. Onlookers gasped as expensive champagne and blood sprayed them. Watanabe went limp.

Tanaka turned to Bonnie and Cain. “We have to leave now! Follow me, quickly!” Bonnie and Cain trailed Tanaka down the stairs and out of the building. They ran a few meters and took a turn down a back alley.

Once they finally stopped, Cain began questioning Bonnie. “What were you—” He tried to catch his breath. “What were you doing in there? Who’s Watanabe? Why did he”—Cain continued breathing heavily—“call you a whore?”

“I sometimes work here. It’s where I find a lot of my clients who want me to teach them English.”

“What?” Cain said incredulously. “I thought you were a flight attendant.”

“I have more than one job.”

“I can’t believe you’d be working at a place like that!”