"Okay," Jeremy said. "Now we leave, right?"
Nick ignored him. He grabbed hold of one beefy shoulder. There was no need to try to haul Eugene erect. The big man came up off the table, one massive fist already arcing through the air.
Nick ducked the blow and slammed both clenched hands into Eugene's midsection. It was like hitting a very solid pillow. The impact felt good, but it didn't do much damage. Nick stepped back hurriedly, shaking his numbed hand.
Okay, maybe that had been a mistake.
Fortunately Eugene was off balance, thanks to too many beers and the collision with the table. When he charged a second time, flailing wildly, Nick stuck out a foot. Eugene obligingly tripped and went down with a crashing thud that shook the floor.
Dwayne squealed, grabbed the nearest pool cue, and launched himself at Nick. Jeremy snatched the stick out of his hands as he went past.
"You know," Jeremy said, "if you'd ever bothered to read one of Nick's books, you'd know he never gets into a fight without his trusty sidekick, Bonner."
Robbed of his ersatz rapier, Dwayne scrambled to a halt and turned to throw a short punch at Jeremy. He caught one of the other pool players on the shoulder, instead.
"Hey, watch it, you little creep." The player took a swipe at Dwayne and sent him tumbling into one of the men who had come from the bar area to see what all the excitement was about.
A man standing behind Nick chuckled. "Man, the little redhead must be one hot number, huh? So what's the deal? Is she, or isn't she a natural—"
Nick swung around and punched the commentator in the chest. The man fell back against a table. His cue stick went sailing and struck someone else.
The poolroom exploded in a firestorm of shouts and flying fists.
Nick turned back, searching for Eugene amid the swarm of sweating, heaving bodies.
"Son of a bitch, Harte." Eugene had managed to get up off the floor. He threw himself at Nick.
Nick moved out of the way and came up against Sandy Hickson, who had wandered into the poolroom. The two went down together and rolled under a table.
Jeremy bent over to look at the pair beneath the table. "Everyone okay down here?"
Someone hauled him up and swung at him. Jeremy took the blow on the side of his jaw and reeled back against a table.
Nick untangled himself from Sandy and came out from under the table in a low rush. He tackled the man who had just hit Jeremy and they both went down, rolling in a small river of spilled beer.
Fred picked up the phone. Sean Valentine and two other officers arrived ten minutes later.
Chapter 19
Shortly before midnight Nick and Jeremy stood with Rafe in the parking lot that fronted the Eclipse Bay Police Department.
"I gotta say, this is a real red-letter occasion for me." Rafe tossed his keys into the air and caught them. "Never thought I'd see the day when a Madison had to bail one of you fine, upstanding, pillar-of-the-community Hartes out of jail. To say nothing of a Seaton."
"If you're looking for undying gratitude, try the Yellow Pages." Jeremy put a cautious hand to his jaw.
"One thing I really hate," Nick muttered, "is a guy who bails you out of jail and then gloats."
"You two are going to look very colorful tomorrow," Rafe said, amused.
"You know, neither of us is in the mood for this." Nick gave him a sour look. "The only thing we want from you right now is a lift back to the Total Eclipse so that we can pick up our cars. Think you can manage that without further comment?"
"No," Rafe said. "You want a ride, you've got to put up with the witty remarks."
Nick exchanged glances with Jeremy. "We could beat him up now or we could do it later."
"I vote for later," Jeremy said. "To tell you the truth, I'm not really up for any more physical activity tonight."
"Okay, later." Nick turned back to Rafe. "Drive."
"My pleasure." Rafe led the way across the parking lot to where he had left Hannah's car.
At that moment another vehicle swung into the lot, briefly dazzling Nick's eyes with its headlights. It came to an abrupt halt nearby. Octavia's fairy-tale coach.
"The perfect end to a delightful evening," Nick said to no one in particular. "It just doesn't get any better than this, does it?"
They all watched the door on the driver's side snap open. Octavia shot out of the front seat. Her red hair was a wild, fiery tangle in the yellow glow of the street lamp.
"No," Rafe said. "It sure doesn't. Oh man, am I ever glad I'm not in your shoes, Nick. All I can say is good luck."
Octavia rushed toward them around the hood of the white compact. She wore a gauzy, ankle-length, flower-patterned skirt and a snug-fitting tee shirt with a deeply scooped neckline. When Nick glanced down, he saw that she was wearing slippers. She had dressed in a hurry.
"I just had a phone call from Hannah. Something about a tavern brawl. Tell me there's been some terrible mistake."
"There's been a mistake, all right," Nick said. "You forgot to put on your shoes. You know, the importance of proper footwear is often overlooked."
"Are you both all right?" she asked.
"Sure," Nick said. "We're fine. Aren't we, Jeremy?"
"We're fine," Jeremy said obligingly.
"They're fine," Rafe assured her.
Nick saw some of her tension ease. The slight shift in the set of her shoulders caused her br**sts to move beneath the tee shirt. The thin cotton fabric clung briefly to her ni**les and he realized that she was not wearing a bra.
He was suddenly intensely aware of Rafe and Jeremy standing there with him. They were looking at her, just as he was. Probably also noticing that she wasn't wearing a bra.
Annoyed, he yanked off his windbreaker and held it out to her. "Here. Better put this on. It's chilly out here."
She frowned at the jacket, as if she'd never seen one before. He moved closer, putting himself between her and Jeremy and Rafe, and tugged the jacket forcibly around her shoulders. It was so large on her that it fell like a cape in front. He wasn't entirely satisfied, but at least her ni**les were no longer visible.
She ignored the jacket to glower at him. "What happened? How did the fight start?"
"Eugene Woods started it," Nick said. He glanced at Jeremy. "Isn't that right?"
"Definitely," Jeremy said. "Eugene Woods was the cause."
Rafe nodded. "Eugene Woods."
"You weren't even there when it happened, Rafe. How do you know?"