“Then why you trying to fight me?” He leaned closer, his face nearing her neck as his hand held tight to her.
And then the sound of a fist hitting flesh sounded by her ear, and the man’s head snapped to the side, nearly hitting Honora in the face.
Honora jerked her head to see Leonard’s chest heaving, staring at his hand.
“Did you just hit him?” Honora asked, dumbfounded.
Leonard looked up, his face aghast. “It seems I have.”
Oh dear.
The man dropped his hand from Honora’s waist, then raised to his full height. Leonard lost more color from his face as he eyed the man up.
“I think we had better go,” Honora began, taking a step toward Leonard.
And then it happened. The man bellowed and reached forward, grabbing Leonard by his lapels and quickly lifting him and tossing him onto one of the tables that had been pushed to the edge of the room.
Honora gasped, running toward Leonard. But the man pushed her shoulder before she made it far, knocking her to the ground. Her head hit the corner of a chair, and she saw a flash of light when she made contact.
Wood knocking together and the screeching of furniture made Honora force her eyes open, though they watered from the pain as warmth pooled on her brow.
Double oh dear.
The man had a chair lifted in the air as Stanton lay flat out on a table. Just as she opened her mouth to shout at Leonard, he rolled to the side, falling to the floor and evading the chair in the nick of time as it struck down on the table. A loud crack snapped through the air. Men cheered, each picking sides as to who they thought would win the fight. She didn’t think anyone picked Leonard. She almost said her vote aloud just to give him a modicum of confidence, but she wasn’t sure he would appreciate the thought.
Then, quick as a shot, Leonard scrambled to his feet. He lifted his fists in the air and bent his knees, ready to fight.
Bless the man’s well-meaning, but utterly stupid, heart.
Honora stood, taking a step toward the men, when she felt a hand grip her shoulder.
“This isn’t your fight,” Thrup said, glaring down at her.
“I would beg to differ,” she spat back. Turning back toward them, her stomach wrenched. If Leonard got hurt because of her, she would not be able to abide it. She got him into this mess, and while she had been having her fun, injury to his person was too far.
The men were taking swings, some hitting their mark and some missing. The boor of a man was clearly intoxicated, giving Leonard a bit of a leg up on the fight, but the larger man clearly had the benefit of size on his side.
Then things took a turn. Leonard was ducking and dodging, getting in hits with nearly every swing. His opponent spat a bit of blood on the floor, then wiped his mouth as he glared at Leonard, the two circling one another.
Was Leonard going to win this fight? Honora nearly smiled, but the cuts and blood on Leonard’s face were enough to keep her sober-minded.
Unfortunately, the other men seemed to notice Leonard winning as well, and several came forward around their friend.
Leonard’s eyes darted about the half-moon of men, now circling about him.
Thrup’s grip loosened just enough to let Honora slip away. She reached her hand into her reticule as she neared the men, gripped the cool metal within, pulled it out, pointed it at the floor, and fired.
The bullet cracked into the wooden planks, the sound ringing out in the room. Every motion stopped. That is, until all their heads swiveled toward Honora.
A man had Leonard about the neck, holding him to his chest.
“Let him go,” she said, her voice as cool as the steel in her right hand.
The man narrowed his eyes. “Like you would do it.”
She reached down to her leg, pulling out the small blade strapped in a sheath against her calf as she trained her gun on the man holding Leonard.
His eyes widened, hesitating. “You wouldn’t. What if you missed?”
