Noble Warrior Read Online Free PDF Page B

M.D. was being pimped out by his father to fight in Detroit’s underground cage fighting wars, the Priests had set up a
blockbuster fight, Bam Bam versus the Brooklyn Beast, a war to prove once and for all who the best really was. But the battle never happened because the Brooklyn Beast got pinched for armed robbery
just before the showdown was about to occur.
    “There’s lots of money involved,” Puwolsky continued. “But more than that, a gang lives by its rep, and with the Priests being punked time after time, it’s
affecting their street cred. Which could affect their business operations. Which is a multimillion dollar criminal enterprise. And so when Demon gets tossed into the tank, the High Priest
doesn’t want the money he’s owed anymore. He wants a fighter who can win for the Priests. In other words, he wants you.”
    “But since his father doesn’t have him,” Stanzer deduced, “Demon offers up the next best thing he can in order to save his own ass.”
    “Exactly. He tells the High Priest that he knows how to flush you out,” Puwolsky said. “Demon told the High Priest that the way to get Bam Bam is to go after his
girl.”
    “What exactly does that mean, ‘Go after my girl’?” M.D. asked.
    “With the Priests,” Puwolsky replied, “you don’t want to know.”
    McCutcheon, lost in thought, rubbed his chin.
    “And how’d you find out about this?” Stanzer asked.
    “Wave hello, Oscar,” Puwolsky said.
    A thick-necked guy sitting in a swivel chair staring at a computer monitor raised his arm and waggled his middle finger at Puwolsky.
    “That’s Oscar Larson,” Puwolsky said. “I work with his brother, Dickey Larson, back in Detroit. The Priests floated a balloon to our side of the fence, got a message to
Dickey that unless Bam Bam resurfaced within the next seven days they were gonna, well, like I said, you don’t want to know. However...”
    “However what?” Stanzer asked.
    Puwolsky smiled a big shit-eating grin. “This is fucking perfect.”

T op martial artists always operate from a space of inner peace. The world outside can be swimming in chaos, but to the devoted
practioner of the warrior’s path, the way is best walked in a calm and balanced manner. Just as seas may rage with waves and choppiness on the surface, underneath the ocean is always steady
and serene.
    It’s one of the reasons McCutcheon always felt so confident in his ability to ultimately triumph. On the outside he was strong, but on the inside he felt immovable.
    Until Kaitlyn. She became the lever that opened a swirling drain.
    “Is my sister safe?” M.D. asked. Roughly ten months earlier the FBI had offered M.D. a take-it-or-leave-it ultimatum: your sister or your girl? McCutcheon chose his sister. Was it
the right choice? Absolutely.
    McCutcheon had raised Gemma, protected Gemma, and sacrificed for Gemma. His six-year-old sister always came first. Her dimpled face, her lopsided pigtails, the way she could make M.D. giggle and
smile and laugh when the rest of the world only wanted bone and blood and flesh. Gemma’s well-being was the only thing that had gotten M.D. through all those long nights of training, all
those brutal poundings, and all those nasty, gloveless wars on all those violent Saturday nights.
    Your sister or your girl?
Was his sister the right choice? Absolutely. Then again, he always wondered why it had to be either/or.
    He wanted them both.
    “I have no idea about your sister,” Puwolsky replied. “Only Stanzer knows your family’s whereabouts. Just a stroke of pure coincidence that I even found you.”
    M.D. turned to Stanzer.
    “She’s safe,” the colonel affirmed. “Your mom, too. But your use of the word
perfect
, Colonel,” Stanzer said, directing his attention at Puwolsky,
“is a bit puzzling.”
    “You’re correct; nothing’s perfect,” Puwolsky admitted. “But this is damn good. Gives us a chance to slip an agent inside the D.T. and break this whole