The John Cutler Mysteries Box Set 2: Books 4-6

Chapter 1

Manny Gorman clenched his fists and bared his teeth. A man acting like a crazed grizzly is a scary sight, especially when he stands six and a half feet tall and weighs three hundred pounds. Manny and I had fought for nearly ninety seconds which is a lifetime when throwing and taking punches. His face was bloodied. I imagined mine was more so.

We destroyed Manny’s living room in the process of our brawl. Once bright lamps were now shattered. Pictures lay on the ground with their frames busted. A crack ran through the middle of his TV.

Yet Manny remained on his feet, ready for more. The time to talk myself free from his violence had long passed.

The big man had come home early. He was supposed to be out drinking with his brother. “Letting off some steam,” according to his wife. Instead, he found me on the couch with her. Seeing Delores in my arms, Manny went crazy.

It would have been better for her to come to my place. Hindsight is a worthless thing in moments like this.
I punched Manny in the nose—the third time I’d done so. Unlike the others, this one barely staggered him. His eyes had stopped watering by now. He did, however, bring his hands closer to his face as he shook off the blow.

My window to win this fight was razor-thin, and I had no illusions about that. To survive the night—to survive Manny Gorman—I needed to get by him and escape the house. That was my only option.

Moving quickly, I grabbed Manny’s shoulders and jerked a knee into his groin. He grunted and reflexively snapped forward. Men respond in a predictable manner when struck in the testicles, but fights are messy, and they get uglier the longer they go on.

Manny’s head smashed into mine—an inadvertent strike caused by my leg thrusting into his groin. I stumbled backward. The room spun wickedly, and I reached out for anything to stop my fall. My legs buckled, and I grabbed onto the edge of a leather recliner—his favorite chair.

Delores shrieked as Manny advanced.

He jumped and tackled me—a linebacker punishing an unprotected punter. His considerable weight pinned me to the floor.

Disoriented now, I frantically wriggled to get free. Panic welled inside me.

Manny yelled, “My wife!”

He punched me in the cheek. A second strike swung in an arc and missed me entirely. This seemed to anger him further. He pounded straight down onto my chest—it felt like a jackhammer trying to reach my spine.

Manny fell forward until his face was inches from mine. His fingers slipped into my hair.

I wanted to holler, but there was no breath to do so.

“This’ll teach you,” he said. Spittle flew from his lips.

When my head bounced off the floor, the lights flicked off.