It all would have been fine, everything dandy, except one of Jacky’s goons r
eached out and swatted her on the rump as she passed.
Her snarl, the feral bark, cut through male tittering before it was overshadowed by the crack of her hand landing hard on the offender’s cheek.
The Chicago outfit burst out laughing, but the goon she’d struck thought to stand from his chair. Before he might lay another hand on her, Charlie’s forearm flew. She struck him right in the throat. When he buckled over, gasping, up went her knee straight into his groin.
His compatriots shuffled back, chairs squeaking as they stood. All eyes were on the blonde who’d tackled a grown man, raining blow after blow on his face.
Snarling, he reached for his gun. Charlie snatched it right out of his grip, the barrel glancing the top of her head. As she cocked the piece and prepared to kill, an arm came around her middle.
Yanked back against a hard body, snarling, kicking like mad, Charlie went wild.
A voice at her ear came to pacify. “Calm down, spitfire.” Matthew hushed her even as he yanked the gun from Charlie’s fingers and pointed it straight at Jacky Brindle’s skull.
Jacky was stricken, nervously adjusting his tie, looking between a man poised to kill him and the older brother shouldering a shotgun he’d grabbed from behind the bar. Even Eli had been wise enough to take the pistol from his Ford, pointing it at the goons’ backs when he’d run back at the first sign of trouble.
“Mr. Emerson—”
Matthew tightened his grip on the female tornado, ignored her efforts to get free, and spoke so calmly it was chilling. “I think it’s time y’all packed up and took that sorry sack of shit with ya.”
Unsure what to do, the men began to back away, Jacky nodding.
Charlie called, “Jacky B.” Her voice drawled sharp and dangerous, her accent lilting and nasal in mimic of his. “Since that man there ain’t gonna be able to speak for a while, you go tell Beaumont Radcliffe to see me personally and ask forgiveness real sweet like. If he’s got a problem with that, tell him I said, caw.”
Brindle couldn’t believe her nerve. “Caw?”
She gave a nasty smirk. “You heard me.”
The arm around her tightened, Matthew silently commanding that she shut her mouth. “Nathaniel, see that our friends here get on their way. Eli, go with Nathaniel.”
The door shut, the room got quiet, and they both waited for the sound of engines and the crunch of tires rolling over gravel.
The gangsters were gone but Charlie was still hanging, uncomfortably at that, against the chest of Matthew Emerson. “Feel free to put me down anytime.”
Her body slid lower until her toes touched the floor. She moved to step away, but Matthew kept his arm firm around her middle. When he wouldn’t budge, she tossed her head back and warned him with one vicious glare that he better let go or he was next on her list.
Pale eyes darted over her face, his expression nearing violence. “You’re hurt.”
“I am not hurt,” she countered. The other man was hurt. He’d be sitting funny for a week.
Furious, Matthew hoisted her up again and walked to an undisturbed table. Propping her on the edge, placing his hands on either side of her body, he boxed her in and leveled her with a glare. “What the hell is wrong with you, woman? You got any idea how dangerous those men are?” When she opened her mouth, ready to spit out something nasty, he cut her off. “Say one goddamn smartass word and I will make you regret it.”
Bristling, Charlie leaned nearer. “You don’t frighten me, Matthew Emerson. That man had it coming.”
Clenching his jaw, Matthew grit out, “You got any idea what men like that would do to a pretty thing like you?”
“Yes, I do.” Her expression made it clear she knew exactly what men like that were capable of. “Which is why he needed a beating. You think I don’t know what they were doing here? I just saved your ass! Radcliffe won’t mess with you again; your reputation stands. Business will continue.”
She didn’t think it was possible for him to look angrier. She was wrong. Belligerent, trying to get up, Charlie began to holler, “Why the hell won’t you let me up?”
He lifted a hand and wiped his fingers across her forehead, holding them out so she could see the bright smears of red. “This is why. This is why, Charlotte! You’re fuckin’ bleeding all over yourself.”
She looked confused when a small drip of warm liquid ran down the side of her face. Glancing down, Charlie found the little stream was staining the fabric of her collar. “Damn it. I liked this dress.”
Bringing his face so close she could smell the tobacco on his breath, Matthew practically roared. “You dress like a man, catch one high profile criminal, and you think you’re so goddamn hard?”
She could hardly believe her ears. Growing before him, Charlie cracked her neck. “You think he was the first? There have been over two dozen. He was just the most important! I was eight when that bastard cut up my mama’s face and slit my twin brother’s throat. He would’ve killed me too if Charles hadn’t shoved me under the bed.