Genesis’s head cracks to the side with the force of the blow, and she gasps at the pain of it, stumbling as she catches herself.
My rage goes from hot to cold inan instant, and it’s focused entirely on one man.
I’ve still got half the table to navigate before I reach him, and then he’s fucking dead.
The mood has turned ugly. The men are on their feet, half crying out in outrage, the other half shouting encouragement.
“Punish her!”
“Stop!”
“Asshole!”
“Show that skank!”
Genesis wipes the back of her hand across her lip, smearing blood on her skin. She stares at it for a full second, glances at the man that hit her… and then she grins.
Feral. Like a hellcat. Just like back at Franco’s.
I know what’s coming even before it happens.
Genesis moves in on the guy, stamps her boot on the instep of his foot, gives him a half-second to cry out and for his head to come forward, thenuppercutshim. Her small fist smacks beneath his chin, closing his jaw with a snap, and his head rocks back.
Damn, she beat me to it. But the guy’s not down yet.
One of the two men near him shouts out, steps in, and slaps Genesis again, an open handedsmackright on the same cheek as the backhand she’s already received. It spins her around, the edge of the pool table catches her, and she sprawls against the baize with a pained cry.
And I have a new target.
Grabbing him by the shoulder, I wrench himround and straight-arm him right into his face. It starts from way the hell back and I lean into it, all my anger, all my frustration in that one blow. Exactly what I’ve been wanting to do for the past half hour.
There are no restraints now.
He doesn’t have a chance to block, and bone shatters beneath my fist, blood spurting from his smashed nose. My punch sends him sprawling over the table behind him, face a bloody mess, jaw slack, eyes glazed. What’s left of our drinks go flying, the furniture smashing under his weight.
Damn, that felt good.
My knuckles are split, blood on my hand that’s not mine. Adrenaline courses through me, and I’m ready for more.
My moment of vindication is short-lived, for a man tackles me from behind, arms coming around my waist. His shoulder hits my hip, knocking me against the edge of the table, right beside Genesis.
But I’m fired up, pulse hammering, and I barely feel it. I drop an elbow onto his back, then do it again when the first blow only shudders him. The second time he cries out, grip weakening, knees buckling.
The third guy grabs for Genesis, yanking her back by her braid, and I can’t reach her in time.
She yells in pain and outrage, and I shout too.
“Get the fuck off her!”
But I didn’t need to worry; she’s got two of the balls in her hands, and she spins inside his arm, cracking both of them into the sides of his head. He drops with barely a whimper, eyes rollingback.
I laugh as I bring my knee up into the face of the guy still clinging onto me, his grip now limp, and my blow knocks him free at last. I haven’t had a fight like this in too long. Every nerve ending is alive.
We’re not the only ones fighting, with half the men taking issue over the treatment of Genesis, and the other half just up for a brawl. Alcohol’s been flowing all afternoon, and there won’t be any stopping this.
“Time to leave?” I ask her.
“Fuck, I suppose so.” She grabs her jacket off the back of her chair, ducks beneath a wild swing of a guy near her, snatches her drink from the table, then glasses him with it. He goes down with his face cut.
