Still coming down from the adrenaline high of battle, Stilman only grunted in response.
“Hey! This babe’s a real looker,” one of the other men called, turning Tiffany over with his foot. “Guess we’re going to get a little pleasure with our business.”
Stilman’s head came up with a snap.
“None of that,” he said sharply. “We mess ’em up a bit to remind them they’re playing out of their league, but that’s all.”
“I thought Max said we could take the gloves off,” the man said sullenly.
In reality, Stilman wasn’t even sure that Max would approve of what they were doing. He had put this ambush together on the strength of her not giving him his usual order to “lay off the rough stuff.” Taking a couple of the security guards out of action should be okay, but it was certainly a welcome change for the boys not to have to keep their hands in their pockets during a brawl. Still, Max was a woman, and Stilman was almost certain that she’d get upset if the crew got too frisky with the female Legionnaire.
“Never mind what Max says,” he snapped. “I’m telling you to keep it impersonal. We’re sending these guys a message to back off, and I don’t want to confuse the issue with anything else. We’re going to mess them up period! Got that?”
“Yeah. Sure.”
Turning back to his original victim, Stilman raised his foot and brought his heel down sharply on the fallen man’s leg.
The sound of the bone breaking echoed briefly off the alley walls.
“Do something to her face,” he called back over his shoulder. “Women are sensitive about stuff like that.”