Chapter Fifteen
‘Been holdin’ out on us, ’aven’t ya – copper?’
The sucker punch to the gut had him doubled over and gasping for breath. Pain slammed through him. His lungs constricted and his throat closed over. Darkness edged his vision as lack of blood to his brain made him lightheaded. Then his body kicked into gear, opened the diaphragm, relaxed the lungs, and he gasped in a breath of stale sweat and cigarette smoke.
Clint made a point of hitting him in exactly the same place every time. Right side, fourth rib down. That last hit, the ribs had split. He sank onto his knee, riding the rocket of pain. He went to protect his side with a hand, but they’d been tied behind his back. His shoulders locked with rigid muscle against his bonds.
There was a snigger.
He bit back a bolt of ange
