Lee lashed out with his foot, polished black shoe catching Ryan in the face. The young man stumbled clutching his head and then crumpled to the ground.

“What did I tell you?” The asian mobster snarled. “You get sacked in the third quarter. Was that too difficult for you?”

Pausing long enough to straighten his immaculate suit, Lee stepped forward and delivered another sharp kick to the prone quarterback’s stomach.

Ryan gasped for air.

“Where I come from, when someone fails like you did, we take… fingers.”

A switchblade suddenly appeared.

Ryan watched in horror as Lee knelt next to him. His hands balled up denying the knife any single target. His voice was hoarse. “No.”

“Come now, you can’t expect to get out of this by pleading. You cost me thirty-thousand dollars.”

“It was an accident-”

Lee interrupted him. “Shut up! You wanted to win. You thought you could take my money and keep your pride. Well now your pride has cost you this.” His gesture with the knife seemed to include Ryan’s whole body.