A Fighter By His Trade
People were scattering now, running out of the bar. Toby had his hands raised; a man in a black leather jacket was holding a gun on him. Two more men, both huge, stood off to one side.
“Put the gun down, bub.” He saw both the thugs turn to look at him. “We don’t want any trouble in here tonight.”
The man with the gun turned his head. He was an ugly bastard, pockmarked and with a deep scar running down one cheek. “Stay outta this, asshole. Ain’t your business.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” Goddamnit, this was fucking unacceptable. He’d forgotten what he was actually here to do. “Let’s take this outside before someone gets hurt.”
“Someone’s gonna get hurt if you don’t get the fuck out of here and let us discuss business with Barkeep here.” The man jerked his head at his goons and they both started towards Logan.
He dropped into a crouch and dodged the first punch. He grabbed the man’s arm and threw him across the room; he crashed into a table and stayed down, for the moment. The second man pulled a knife and took a swipe at him. Logan threw up an arm and the knife glanced off it, slicing him near the elbow. The man stepped back, grinning, and then paled as he watched the deep gash close itself up almost instantly. “Holy shit.”
“No kidding.” Logan wiped the remaining blood off his arm. “Wanna try that again?”
“Both of you shut up.” It was the leader. Logan turned, and froze. The man had Marie, one arm twisted behind her back, his gun pressed against her temple. Her face was contorted in pain. “Want me to blow your pretty little friend’s brains out?” He didn’t move. Damn it to hell, why hadn’t she run like everyone else? “Toby, you empty out the till. That should cover our take for the week.” Logan saw Toby move to do so. “Paul, put some cuffs on the hero here so he don’t get any more bright ideas.”
“I ain’t touchin’ him.” Goon number two was still staring at Logan’s arm. “Boss, I cut him and he didn’t—“
“I saw it. He ain’t gonna do nothin’ while I got his little chere here.” The man Logan had taken on first was back now, shaking his head to clear it and holding a gun of his own. “Right, sweetheart?” He twisted Marie’s arm a little more. She winced, but Logan saw her bring her free hand up to her mouth, trying to pull off the glove she wore with her teeth. “All right. Jake, you do it.”
“My pleasure, boss.” The huge man shoved Logan toward the end of the bar, pulled out a pair of handcuffs and fastened one wrist to the brass railing that ran around the bar. Toby set a paper bag on the bar and shot Logan a worried look.
“All right, just let her go. No one needs to get hurt here,” the bartender said.
Paul came forward, avoiding Logan, and grabbed the bag. The man in charge jerked his head at his other henchman. “Jake, come here.” He started backing towards the door, dragging Marie with him.
“Let her go.” Logan took a step forward, as far as he could go.
“I think you gentlemen need to understand that we ain’t foolin’ around here.” He ran the black-leather gloved hand that held the gun up and down the girl’s cheek. Logan saw Marie close her eyes, but it didn’t seem to be because she was scared—more as though she was concentrating. “The lady’s gonna come with us. We’ll send her home in the morning, you understand. But we got a party to go to after this and I think she’d enjoy it.”
“You ain’t leaving with her.” Logan’s voice was low and deadly.
“Not much you can do about it, hero. Jake, you hold onto her.” He was almost at the door; he shoved Marie towards the second man and then everything happened in a blur. Logan unsheathed one set of claws and slashed through the chain on the handcuffs even as he saw Marie reach towards the second man’s face. He retracted them before dispatching Paul with two punches, the second an uppercut that sent him flying backwards and the money he held scattering across the room. He was aware of the second goon hitting the floor as well, though he wasn’t sure what had happened; he only saw the boss raising his gun towards the girl again. With a roar he let the claws out again and slashed down.
A hand, holding a gun, hit the floor of the bar. It was no longer attached to its owner. The ugly man gave a high-pitched scream and collapsed, writhing in pain. Logan was on him in a second. The man was wearing a tie; Logan jerked it off him and knotted it tightly around what was left of his wrist, making a rough tourniquet. Then he leaned forward, into the man’s sweating face, and released a single blade, letting it inch forward until it was poised over one eye. “I ain’t foolin’ around either, pal. I’m gonna let you live, so you can make sure the word gets out. Next one comes in here and tries anything is gonna lose body parts they just might miss even more. That goes double for anyone who puts their hands on a woman. Got it?” Terrified, the man nodded. “Good.” He saw Paul, out of the corner of his eye, starting to get to his feet. He rose as well and the larger man cowered away from him. “Get your boss the fuck out of here. Your buddy here can wait for the cops.” With a vicious jerk he used the extended claw to slice away the cuff that still dangled from one wrist before retracting it.
He looked around, the battle rage calming. Toby was just rising from where he’d ducked behind the bar; he looked shell-shocked. Fuck. Toby knew he was a mutant. It was an open secret on the fight circuit—it was hard to hide things from men who saw him getting beaten night after night and never showing a mark—but he didn’t know about the claws. Well, now he knows. “Call the police. Clean up the floor first.” He kicked the severed hand towards the fallen man. “I don’t see him filing any complaints.” Toby just nodded. Logan knew that look; he had a feeling he wasn’t going to be getting free drinks around here any more. He turned.
Marie was standing still, over the second goon’s body. She had a dazed expression and he had no idea what had happened there; the guy was out cold. She couldn’t possibly have done that. “You all right?” She nodded, almost reflexively. He saw her kneel down and get something from the floor; it was her second glove, the one she’d pulled off for some reason. Her green scarf still fluttered free around her neck.
That’s mine. And now he had a reason to want it; it would be a reminder of all the reasons he shouldn’t let pretty little co-eds flirt with him. He strode forward and reached for it; she flinched away from his hand and his lip curled in grim satisfaction. Good. Now maybe she’d quit playing with fire. “You owe me somethin’.” He grabbed the scarf and jerked it free; she gasped. “Have a nice life.” He strode towards the back stairs without a backwards glance; all he wanted now was to get his stuff and get out.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Things heat up in the bar. Not in a good way.