Snow Blind - Lori G. Armstrong [61]
“Let go of me!”
“Still think I’m gonna run?”
“I said, let go!”
“Little hard for me to run with my boot on your ass, isn’t it?”
She squirmed. Muttered insults. But I had her locked down and she knew it.
With my senses dulled by tequila, the noise behind me didn’t register until it was too late.
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A brawny arm wrapped around my throat and
jerked me back. Unfortunately for Dumbo, I didn’t release her arm, and the sickening sound of cartilage popping echoed before she screamed.
“Let go of her!” the baritone demanded. “Now!”
Aw. Her old man rode to her rescue. How sweet. On pure instinct I swung around, using the foot I’d jammed in her back to catch her white knight in the knee with my boot heel.
He grunted and stumbled, loosening his grip on me. I went limp as a wet noodle and slithered out of his hold.
When he bent down to rub his kneecap, I clocked him in the jaw. Followed through with a snap-kick to his groin. But I missed and connected with his hip. He staggered anyway.
My knuckles stung. Goddamn. No matter how
many times I punched someone, I never seemed to remember how bad it hurt. Feet scuffled in the gravel. I glanced up. We had an audience.
“Hit her again,” some guy shouted.
“Rack him,” a woman suggested.
The beaten pair looked at me.
“Are we done? Or should I take more suggestions?”
Dumbo scrambled to her feet and cradled her arm, cowering by the chubby man who was now rubbing his jaw and his knee.
Served them both right.
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I stepped forward.
As one, they moved back.
Cool. This intimidation shit was heady stuff. Between the adrenaline rush and the booze, I was ten feet tall and bulletproof. As I started to charge, two bands of steel pinned my arms to my sides and my feet dangled in the air.
“Three against one? That sucks!” Outraged, I thrashed. None of my dirty tricks worked on this moose. In fact, he’d completely immobilized me so I couldn’t use a reverse head butt. I tried the limp noodle trick again.
He didn’t fall for it.
I was tired. My head spun like a baton. I chanced a short breather while I figured out a way to take this guy down.
“Relax. I’m not gonna hurt you.”
I recognized the voice and froze. “Big Mike?”
He chuckled. “Yep.”
I was not amused.
“Leave. The show is over,” he barked at the halfdozen people who were still gawking. Disappointed by the lack of real bloodshed, they trudged back into Dusty’s.
“Let go of me.”
“Not until they’re gone.”
“This doesn’t concern you, so butt out.”
He didn’t say a word.
“And I was doing fine on my own before you
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showed up. I sure as hell don’t need your protection now.”
“I’m holding you for their protection, not yours.”
“Oh.”
The couple didn’t return to the bar. They sent me a fiery look of hatred, climbed into a turd brown Dodge minivan, and sped off. Probably to the hospital. I told myself it was wrong to feel smug.
Big Mike released me.
I rolled my shoulders. The outer bar door flew open and Kevin stormed in my direction.
Crap.
I stood my ground, shakily, but stood it nonetheless. He got right in my face. “I leave you alone for five fucking minutes and you’re in a goddamn bar fight?”
“She started it.”
“But you finished it, didn’t you?”
“Uh. Yeah.”
Kevin’s gaze moved to my cheekbone. “For Christsake, Julie, you’re bleeding.”
“I am?” My fingers touched my eyebrow. Came away sticky. Eww. “Huh. Doesn’t even hurt.”
Big Mike snorted.
“You are not a superhero, despite your continual stupid actions to the contrary.” Kevin lifted his arm and blotted the blood with his shirtsleeve. “Where else did she hit you?”
He thought the elephant woman bested me?
Indignant, I said, “Nowhere. For your information, I 215
won. And I’m fine.”
“Shut up.”
“Really, Kev, I’m f- fuck, that hurts!” I jerked from his poking fingers. “Quit it!”
“Quit being such a baby. You’ve had worse. Hold still.”
Great. The adrenaline buzz started to wear off and now I was whining. So much for my superhero status. Definitely time to climb in the Batmobile and return to the cave.
“Come on, Kev. Take me home.”
“No. I’m taking