I was in no mood for small talk. I let go with a swinging haymaker aimed at his chin, which he ducked with surprising adroitness. The force of my pile-driving effort swung me around with my back toward him, and I felt his fist connect hard under the lower rib at the small of my back.
I was aware of pain shooting all through me, but it was nothing compared to the fury inside me which was tying my belly muscles into knots. I swung back, intent on a kill. Vince was reading the unmistakable message of murder blazing from my eyes, decided to run for it.
I was after him like a hunger-maddened cheetah. I caught him with a knee-high tackle from behind. He was propelled forward, with his face grinding into the hot sand just off the edge of the ceramic patio.
He rose groggily and we struggled, lo
