“Fuck,” Wrath and I cursed in tandem as the rest’a the Raiders surged from their table into the action.
I grabbed the one that veered closest to me by the shirt front and slammed my own fist into his soft gut, the big silver rings on my hand actin’ like brass knuckles to deepen the hit.
Still, dude was big, so he didn’t go down.
He swung a wild fist at my head that I ducked, but not quick enough, the edge’a his knuckles clippin’ my ear so it burned with impact.
Around me, chaos as the rest’a the men erupted in a good old-fashioned bar brawl.
I caught’a glimpse’a Tempest smashin’ her pint glass across a man’s cheek, the skin splittin’ instantly, his head reelin’ back.
Huh, I hadn’t known she had it in her.
Wrath slammed a barstool into another Raider, grinnin’ wildly as he crumpled to the ground.
The guy I was fightin’ decided to dispense with pleasantries and launched himself at my middle, tacklin’ me to the floor. I grappled with him, usin’ the floor as leverage to flip him onto his back and follow it up with a punch to the face that lay him back down when he lurched up.
BOOM.
The reverb from the shotgun echoed through the bar and dust from the destroyed wood panelin’ rained down on the floor.
“Enough,” Eugene bellowed, cockin’ the shotgun again. “You want the cops here, Blue’s got ’em on speed dial. Otherwise, lower your fuckin’ fists and move away.”
The Raiders stirred first, skulkin’ a few feet back with jeers still locked over their mouths.
Eugene leveled the gun at the man called Geyser who stepped forward when I winked at him. “You wanna try me, motherfucker?”
Geyser scowled but lifted his hands. “Fine, you assholes are just lucky Daddy saved you.”
“Daddy?” Eugene asked with a blink before plantin’ a hand in the bar and hoppin’ over it to press the shotgun directly to Geyser’s chest. “Who’re you callin’ Daddy, boy?”
Geyser’s bravado withered in the face’a Eugene’s bulk, but there was bitterness and rage in his eyes as they swept over us ’fore he turned on his heel and stormed outta the bar.
The rest’a the Raiders followed, one’a them helpin’ the broken-jawed Bandit through the doors.
“You want help cleanin’ up?” I asked Eugene, surveyin’ the two broken stools, crushed glass and overturned table.
“No, just get the fuck outta here,” he ordered wearily. “It’s too late for more trouble, and you lot are always at the center.”
“Fair enough,” I agreed.
“Leave through the back just in case those fuckers are waitin’,” he suggested as Blue came out from behind the bar with a broom and dustpan.
I snagged her arm gently and tugged her into my front.
“Hey,” I said softly, bendin’ at the knee to look into her eyes better. “Is my girl okay?”
Her sigh was weary. “Yeah, Bones, I’m okay. Violence is kinda the modus operandi of my life. You’re not hurt?”
“Nah, those assholes? Like they could get a hand on me,” I boasted just to win that small little smile curvin’ her mouth. “On the other hand, yes, I’m gravely injured. I think a kiss would make me feel better.”
She grinned, shakin’ her head as she lifted my red knuckles and kissed them gently.
“Not exactly where I’m hurtin’, seein’ you in those shorts,” I corrected with a leer at the short denim leavin’ acres’a pale skin bare for me to ogle.
“You’re ridiculous,” she said on a huffin’ chuckle. “How can you make me laugh even when I’m annoyed with you?”
“It’s an art form,” I admitted with faux sincerity. “I gotta head out, but you stay safe, yeah? Eugene’ll walk you to your car.”
