Page 101 of Always Knew It Was You

Especially when the man’s equally huge but stupid-looking friends roar as they jump to their feet and charge at me. One of them tries to tackle me and I instantly drive my elbows into his back, feeling satisfied when he yelps and falls to the floor. Another one tries to punch me and I duck to avoid it, and then duck again to avoid the third idiot’s drop kick. He almost gets me with a second kick to the eye, but I drive my leg up to his crown jewels instead.

He howls as he drops to the floor and I smile in satisfaction.

They keep coming in twos and threes.

I break one’s nose with a satisfying crunch but the other one manages to kick me in the stomach. It doesn’t take me down though. I barely feel it and I manage to judo-throw him into a table, breaking it in the process.

Now I’m so thankful for all those self-defense classes my father made me take in case I ever got kidnapped. I know how to take a hit and deal an even more painful one.

Three more of the assholes come at me and I hop back over a seat to avoid their blows. Then I kick one in the face and kick another one into the bleeding asshole with a broken nose who was just getting to his feet.

It’s going well, but there are still too many of them and in my periphery, I notice one of them grab a seat ready to chuck it at me.

Good thing I’m not alone.

Because as they pick up a seat to throw at me, an older man yells, “Watch out!” and smashes his beer bottle over the asshole’s head leading him to drop to the floor.

His eyes meet mine. It’s the guy from yoga, Old Man Shoreton. He nods.

I nod back.

And just like that, an all-out bar fight breaks out.

It’s total and complete chaos. More chairs are thrown, and more glass is broken. Angry snarls form a cacophony mixing in with the punches and grunts. I manage to take care of myself and also watch out for Old Man Shoreton, who helps me. And he’s not the only one doing it too. It seems his entire table of elderly gentlemen is going after the thugs too, ganging up on them.

At first, the thugs don’t seem to know what to do with them, but then one of them grabs Shoreton and rears back his fist to punch him.

Oh no, you fucking don’t.

I hit him in the back with a chair before he can, and then smash his skull again so he passes out.

Someone breaks a chair against my back and I rear back in time to watch an elderly man tackle him to the ground. And another one is beating people with his walking stick.

“That’s my yoga teaching assistant,” he says as he fights. “You get your grimy hands off him.”

Later maybe, when I have the presence of mind, I’ll be touched by the way all of them jumped to my rescue and rallied to fight with me. But right now, I’m still too enraged.

I snatch one up by his collar ready to deal another blow.

And then I get a glimpse of Carly’s expression.

She’s still standing at the same place, staring straight at me. She doesn’t just look pissed. She looks devastated.

My fist stills in the air.

In my hesitation, the thug manages to get me in the eye before I finally complete the punch and lay him out. After he drops, my eyes go back to Carly. A tall, lanky fellow leaps over the counter and stands next to her as her eyes travel around the room in shock.

At the other end, Emma’s yelling trying to get everything back under control. Her bodyguards surround her, preventing her from getting involved. The fight still rages on, but I’m not paying attention anymore. I’m still staring at Carly and when her eyes meet mine again, the disappointment in them hurts me on a visceral level. It pierces through my chest and clears my anger.

Why is she looking at me like that? What did I do to deserve that look?

My heart jumps restlessly in my chest and I don’t see the punch coming until it crashes into my jaw. I stumble back and I’m about to retaliate when a loud whistle breaks through the atmosphere.

We all turn in unison to see a sheriff standing at the entrance of the bar, his eyes scanning the crowd.

“What in tarnation is going on here?” he says. “I came in here because I heard there was supposed to be a tomahawk special. Didn’t expect to find y’all tearing the place apart. And in front of the damn tourists too. Y’all ought to be ashamed of yourself.”

My jaw stings as he yells, and I put my hand up to my eye, which smarts like hell.That’s definitely going to leave a mark.

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