Chapter 69
Out of the corner of his eye, Tug saw Craig leave the tent. It would take them a couple of minutes – no, longer, they had Cheryl with them – to get over the bridge and into their cars. In the meantime, it was five against one.
He’d faced similar odds before and lived to not tell the tale.
He kept the knife, liberated from Tara’s kitchen and carried in his inside jacket pocket, pressed hard against Thin Man’s throat.
‘Your beef is with Robin,’ he said, letting his eyes flick from one man to the other, trying to spot the one who’d move first. ‘You can take it up with him. The rest of us are not fair game and if you threaten any of those ladies again, I won’t be anything like as polite.’
He heard the sound of a car engine starting up. Time to move.
Swinging himself round, not nearly as smoothly or as quickly as he should have done, but he was getting too old for this shit, he pushed himself upright, dragging Thin Man up by the collar. He kept the knife tight against the man’s neck.
The other four were closing in. The two older, bigger guys weren’t entirely hopeless; they spread out, flanking him. At the same time, the ginger-haired kid moved out of sight, probably blocking the entrance.
‘And we’re moving,’ he said, taking a step back, then another, dragging Thin Man along. He registered looks being traded, the three in front sending messages to the kid behind. Incoming. He threw Thin Man forward, sending him and one of the tattooed blokes flying. Two down.
Tug bent to grab his cane – no way was he leaving that behind – and missed the punch aimed from behind. He swung up, elbowing the ginger lad in the stomach and sprinting for the entrance. Three down, two on his tail.
He was OK with that.