“Easy money,” Trent announced to the room, raising his taped hands. He bounced from foot to foot, his breathing hissing through his teeth in sharp, rhythmic bursts.
Rusty chopped his hand down.
Trent closed the distance instantly. He didn’t respect Big Eli, which meant he didn’t bother with a feeler jab. He threw a heavy looping overhand right, aiming to end it in three seconds. Big Eli didn’t slip with the graceful fluidity of a boxer. He simply hunched his massive shoulders and tucked his chin, a brutal, pragmatic movement.
Trent’s fist crashed into Big Eli’s forehead, the thickest, hardest bone in the human skull. A sickening crack echoed.
Trent winced, stumbling back a half step, shaking his right hand. He had aimed for the jaw and hit solid bone.