“Let her go, you bastards!” (Gwen.)
“I’ll shove your balls so far down your throat, you’ll choke on them!” (Flo.)
“You hurt her, you’re dead! You hear me?DEAD!” (Me.)
Gwen and I headed for the end of the bar, where the counter lifted up on hinges to allow entry. Florence took a different approach. She vaulted over the bar like an Olympic hurdler, then executed what I can only describe as a full stage dive. I don’t know how she managed it so gracefully. She only knocked over one beer with her foot, which sent the barflies scurrying for cover.
Gwen and I could only watch, along with the rest of the patrons in the establishment, as she sailed through the air, arms extended out in front of her. She hit one of the O’Banions — the bigger of the two — square in the back. He grunted in shock as she took him down to the floor.
One down, one to go.
The other brother still had Georgia by the throat. The moment we were in range, Gwen and I fell on him like wild animals, using everything in our arsenal to inflict damage — nails scratching, fists punching, palms slapping. I would’ve used my teeth, too, if I’d had the chance.
“What the fuck?” he yelled as my fist connected with his eye socket. “Stop hittin’ me! Crazy fuckin’ bitches!”
We did not.
If anything, we got slightly more violent.
“LET!”Punch.
“HER!”Slap.
“GO!”Smack.
He finally released Gigi. Unfortunately, it was only so he could backhand me across the face. Seeing the blow coming, I ducked in time.
Gwen didn’t.
His knuckles cracked across her beautiful cheekbone and she flew backward into the bar. Several bottles crashed to the ground, shattering on impact around her feet.
“No!” I screamed. “Oh, god! Gwen!”
She looked dazed by the blow, but she was still standing. I rushed toward her — as did Gigi, who gasped an outraged, “Are you okay?”
Gwen nodded.
Gigi squeezed her upper arm, then hurried past her to the opposite end of the bar, muttering something about ice.
My pale pink gloves curled into furious fists as I turned back to the O’Banions. Rage was simmering in my veins, so strong I could barely keep a handle on it.
“You just hit my friend!” I snapped, glaring daggers at the man before me. He had a creepy tattoo crawling up the side of his neck and the coldest eyes I’d ever seen.
At my angry words, he shrugged.
Shrugged!
My rage quadrupled.
Florence finally stopped wrestling with the giant on the floor and found her feet. Her mouth dropped open as she saw Gwen holding a bag of ice to her face, courtesy of Gigi, who was hovering by her elbow looking just as angry as I felt. Despite the ice, Gwen’s cheek was already beginning to swell.
She’d have a killer bruise tomorrow.
Florence’s dark eyes were brimming with fury as they shifted to the man who’d delivered the blow. “You are so fucked,” she informed him, her voice seething. “You do realize that, don’t you?”
“The bitch was attackin’ me in my own fuckin’ bar!”
“Thebitchis Graham Graves’ girlfriend,” Flo continued. “And he’s going to burn your bar to the ground when he finds out you just hit his woman.”