“Get out of my way, little man,” he grumbled, taking a stiff-legged step toward me. “I’ll eat you up.”
“Keep coming,” I said, “and I’ll put you down.”
“Try it.” He took another step, crouching a little. “I can still get to you with slugs in me.”
“Not where I’ll put them.” I was wordy, trying to talk him into waiting till the others came up. I didn’t want to have to kill him. We could have done that from the taxi. “I’m no Annie Oakley, but if I can’t pop your kneecaps with two shots at this distance, you’re welcome to me. And if you think smashed kneecaps are a lot of fun, give it a whirl.”
“Hell with that,” he said and charged.
I shot his right knee.
He lurched toward me.
I shot his left knee.
He tumbled down.
“You would have it,” I complained.
He twisted around, and with his arms pushed himself into a sitting position facing me.
“I didn’t think you had sense enough to do it,” he said through his teeth.