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mischief.”
     
    “Tabby, Allison, step over here,” I said as I looked at the third member of their group. “We’ll be leaving now.”
     
    Tabitha went to move off the wall, but the three men inched closer together, completely blocking her path.
     
    “What is this?” I asked. “You’re breaking the law. That’s forcible confinement. Step away and let them go, or I’ll call the cops.”
     
    Goatee and Tear Drop stepped closer to me. The door to the liquor store opened and Scott walked out. In my peripheral vision, I saw the old guy from the Chrysler slow his step.
     
    “You’ll do what?” Tear Drop asked, his voice sounded like sandpaper grating on steel wool.
     
    “I’ll call the police. You can’t walk around acting like you own the world because you ride motorcycles. We have rights. Now, step back and leave us alone.”
     
    I didn’t think my message was getting through to them. Their smiles, and the fact that they weren’t stepping off, told me they didn’t respect the same laws I had just mentioned.
     
    “Do you know that the FBI, along with California’s Attorney General have all named us an outlaw motorcycle club? They say we’re involved in drugs, assault, extortion, money laundering, murder, vehicle theft, witness intimidation, and weapons violations. Can you believe that?” He stepped closer to me, our noses almost touching. I could smell his last cigarette. “What I’m trying to illustrate here, is that we’ve decided these two ladies are going to join us for the weekend and then you can have them back, unharmed. How does that sound to you?”
     
    “What the fuck is this?” Scott asked. He set his bag down beside mine and reached for Allison’s arm.
     
    The gang member closest to her shot his hand in the air. A knife appeared out of nowhere.
     
    “Touch her and you lose your hand.”
     
    Scott hesitated. He looked at me. The old man to my right, who had nothing to do with this, moved away and ran for his car. I heard the lock click inside the liquor store as they were barricading themselves inside. We were on our own and in a small town, where police response times would probably be too long to defuse our current problem.
     
    In all my years of studying Shotokan karate, I never thought I’d have to use it for real.
     
    Scott eased back further, his face a mask of fear. Tabitha was trying to stay calm, but Allison was quietly crying now.
     
    Tear Drop was looking away from me. Only Goatee would see me move.
     
    I dropped to my knees, grabbed the neck of a bottle of coconut rum, and as I stood, drove my open palm into the chin of Goatee. I heard his teeth snap together, along with his cry of pain. I only hope I caught his tongue.
     
    The bottle was already in full swing, by the time Tear Drop turned to address me. It hit him in the right cheek, breaking it upon contact, blood shooting from the split skin.
     
    At the second he bent over and fell to the ground, I lunged past him and ran for the guy who was clearly the leader, as the other two acted like his muscle. He had turned toward me, his hands up, the knife shining in the sun.
     
    I feigned left and spun to the right. He bought it, lunging with the knife. My left hand dropped to the wrist that held the knife to control its movement, while my right hand formed a fist. I drove everything I had into that punch, hitting him squarely on the jaw, spinning his head sideways. He brought his head back and smiled at me.
     
    I knew it would take more to hurt this guy, and I didn’t have the time as Goatee would be attacking my rear at any second.
     
    I twisted his wrist as far as I could, and drove my next punch into his throat. He tried to move out of the way, but wasn’t fast enough. His Adam’s apple was my target, and I hit it hard enough to affect his trachea.
     
    He dropped the knife, staggered back, and fell to his knees, both hands clinging to his throat, gasping for air.
     
    I turned around just as Scott was