A burly, dark-haired man with a half-empty beer mug in his hand stood near the edge of the dance floor, a look of utter loathing in his expression. If either Laura or Boone reacted to the man’s remark, Sebastian didn’t see it.
Trey nudged his arm. “That’s Mitchell,” he murmured.
Sebastian made the connection to the abused woman instantly.
As if determined to get a rise out of the couple on the dance floor, Mitchell jeered, “What’re ya’ doing here? I thought you and your fancy man got your kicks barging into people’s houses uninvited.”
This time Laura retaliated. “If I find out you’ve hit your wife again, it’s the police who’ll be barging in.”
“That was an accident. You ask my wife; she’ll tell you,” Mitchell insisted with an indignant anger.
“Only because you’ll beat her again if she doesn’t,” Laura retorted, giving up any pretense of dancing.
Mitchell took a threatening step forward. “Listen, you stupid little bitch—”
“You don’t talk to her like that.” Boone moved into his path, a hand shooting out to shove Mitchell back.
In a sudden fury, Mitchell threw the contents of his mug in Boone’s face and laughed at the sight of Boone shaking his head and wiping the beer from his eyes. The laughter acted like a goad. Boone lashed out, a fist connecting with the side of Mitchell’s face, staggering him.
When Boone moved in, Mitchell swung the heavy mug at his head. The force of the impact knocked him sideways. Laura cried out, and Sebastian and Trey came out of their chairs as one. Dazed, Boone attempted to shake off the effects of the blow and barely managed to dodge a second swing of the beer mug.
Laura was all ready to throw herself at Mitchell when Trey grabbed the arm that wielded the beer mug, and Sebastian caught the other one. “That’s enough, Mitchell,” Trey warned.
“He started it,” Mitchell flared. “I was only defending myself.”
There was no chance for a response as Boone came at Mitchell, taking full advantage of the fact his arms were being held. He slammed a fist into his stomach. The instant, Mitchell doubled over, Boone unleashed an uppercut that snapped Mitchell backward.
Laura threw herself in front of Boone, gripping his upper arms in an attempt to hold him off. “What are you thinking?”
“He needs to be taught a lesson he won’t forget,” Boone growled in answer.
“Not this way,” she stated and threw a glance over her shoulder as Sebastian and Trey succeeded in lifting the semiconscious man onto a chair.
The commotion had drawn the owner from the kitchen. “What’s going on here?” he asked, but none too sure he wanted to know.
“Just a little misunderstanding. It’s over now,” Trey replied. “Get some whiskey.”
The owner hustled toward the bar while Mitchell’s beer-drinking buddy remained where he had been, halfway between the bar and the pool tables, quietly taking it all in.
“He’s all right, isn’t he?” Laura asked.
“He will be,” Trey said as Mitchell groggily lifted his head and raised a hand to his sore chin.
It took a second for his eyes to focus clearly. When they did, he searched out Boone. “That was assault. I’m gonna sue you Calders for every dime you’ve got. Don’t think I won’t”
“You just try it,” Boone snarled.
“Come on. I want to go home.” Laura made a determined effort to turn Boone toward the door.
“You go on home,” Mitchell taunted. “And stay the hell away from mine.”
Laura could feel the bunching of Boone’s muscles. “Darling, please,” she murmured insistently. “I want to get out of here.”
With obvious reluctance, Boone dragged his gaze from Mitchell and curved a protective arm around her. He escorted her to the door, tossed some bills on the counter to cover the cost of their meal, and opened the door for her.
PART THREE
Amid the fury and grief