Dillon: A Wings of Diablo MC Novel

hits me square in the face. I'm up in Canada and no matter what time of day it was, the air always seemed bitter cold. I hope it’s enough to sober me up a bit.
"Hey, motherfucker. I think you owe our friend in there an apology."
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. How did I miss this? There are four men behind me. They must have followed me out of the bar and are now trying to surround me. Usually, I would have noticed something like this right away, but here I am outside, fucking drunk as a skunk and surrounded.
"Fuck you, I don't owe anyone shit. I told her no if she didn't want to listen than that was her fucking problem." I try to say it slowly, but the words are slurred together.
"Nah friend. That's not what we saw. You need to make it up to her and I know just how you can do it. Give us your wallet and your jewelry, and we'll call it even." One of the men, a big lumberjack looking motherfucker steps closer into my space. He has scruffy dark hair and a bit of a beer belly, but he looks solid enough. I don't bother to look around at the other three men to size them up. I nearly laugh out loud when my inebriated mind finally catches up to what they are trying to do. They are sticking me up. Part of me wants to just give them my wallet so I can turn around and walk to the motel where I'm staying for the night. Except there is no way that I was actually going to do that shit. It's been a while since I've had a good fight anyway.
"How about this. Why don't you go back inside and eat a bag of dick?" I smirk at him and that is all it takes. The man lunges toward me swinging his big paw like hand towards my face. In my drunkenness I move too slow to get out of the way, but the feel of his fist making contact with my face jerks me into a well known state.
Numbness.
Before I’d met Keeley, violence was the only normal part of my life. I wasn't afraid to die and had no fear of pain. Chaos being my own personal lullaby. I haven't felt like this in a long time. I no longer hear anything over the slight hum. I can see them rushing me, but I'm moving a little quicker now. Every one of their blows does nothing to stop me from beating the hell out of them. I grab the man in front of me by his hair and slam my elbow into his face over and over until it feels as if his nose has flattened down to his face. I grab one of the others that’s trying to pull me off of his friend and fling him into the wall.
The remaining two try to attack me at the same time, one wrapping their arms around mine as the other punches me repeatedly in the face. I can taste the blood spilling down my throat, but I don't feel any pain. I push back with my feet and force the man behind me into the garbage cans that are lined up against the wall. We both fall backwards and he is forced to let go of me to brace himself for the fall. I quickly turn so that I'm now over him. I pull my fists back and swing them down over and over until the man behind me tries to grab me again. My reflexes are really starting to come back now and I grab onto his arm before he has a chance to fully grasp me. I use the back of my forearm to push through his ulna, effectively breaking his arm. He falls down to the ground screaming and clutching at the broken limb while I turn my attention back to his friend. The other two are already incapacitated and the only one who is left for me to take my anger out on is this man. I could easily fucking kill him right now and not give a damn. I don't even know if he deserves it or not. Robbery doesn't normally warrant a death sentence, but this bit of calm is the most that I've had in a long time.
Lights flash in my peripheral, but I don't turn.
"Hey, do you fucking hear me! I said stop!"
Someone else is screaming and running up to me. I turn ready for the next threat. Maybe the bastard had other friends.
"Shit!" I quickly put my hands up when I realize who is telling me to stop. The police have shown up on the scene. The last thing I want to do right now is get into it with the fucking police.
"Put your hands behind your head and face the wall." He screams at me, the gun still pointed in my direction.
I move, but now that I'm no longer pummeling the man into the ground it feels like my drunken state has returned. Apparently, I'm not moving fast enough, because the man and his partner grab me and slam me into the wall. They pull my hands behind my back and cuff me. I’m shoved down to the ground before I hear one of them talking over a walkie talkie, telling whoever was on the other side that they need an ambulance. The four bastards are still on the ground. Two of them are not moving. I wonder if I actually did kill them? Locked away for the rest of my life, maybe that's something I deserve. The cops don't ask me what's going on or want to know who I am. They just leave me there on the cold ground waiting for the ambulance to come and assess the injured men. Once the EMTs get there the cops lift me up and jam me