The Sugared Game - K.J. Charles Page 0,33
making a wiggling gesture with his fingers. “Someone will be along in a moment. Excuse me.”
“No, not in a moment.” Will let the bonhomie drop out of his voice as he raised the volume. He’d seen plenty of belligerent drunks in his time, and how their moods turned on a sixpence. “I said I wanted a bloody brandy. D’you work here or not?”
“There’s a waiter just coming,” Fuller said, with a practised stretch of the lips. “A brandy here, right away, on the house. I’m sorry for the delay.”
That was beyond reasonable, and Will wasn’t in the habit of picking fights without provocation. He simply couldn’t think of anything to take further offence at, and in that second Fuller slipped by him, moving towards the office, with Kim still in it.
Will shot a frantic look down at the dance floor, and saw Cynthia edging towards the group of Bright Young Things. A woman looked her up and down, expression mocking, while a tall man in evening dress with grime over his shirt-front made no effort to hide the fact that he was ogling her cleavage.
“Get your hands off her, you dirty bastard!” Will bellowed, loud enough to make people jump two tables away. To make his point, he snatched a wine bottle from a passing waiter’s tray, turned, and flung it towards the office. It sailed over Fuller’s head and exploded in a shower of shards against the wall, causing quite a lot of screams.
“Hoi!” Fuller shouted. “What the—”
That should do it. Will charged down the stairs, roaring threats and curses and shoving people out of the way. Speed was of the essence: he needed to draw Fuller down, so he barrelled ruthlessly into the crowd on the dancefloor. Someone behind him grabbed at his arm, digging fingers in. Will swung round, dislodging his grip, and Fuller’s fist just brushed his jaw as he turned.
Dirty bastard, hitting from behind. Will feinted, and hit him with a straight right, feeling Fuller’s nose crunch in a satisfactory manner. The man staggered back, and, since he liked Doris and Cynthia, Will landed a second punch in those offensive teeth. There was an audible crack and a sproing of wire as the dentures broke. Fuller gave a yell of pain and clutched his mouth.
Will swung back to the gaping Bright Young Things. “I’ll bloody kill you, you filthy swine!” he shouted at random. A chinless young man grasped his shoulder with a reproving bleat. Will jabbed at his face, making no great effort to pull the blow—someone should punch them—and slammed his other elbow sideways, landing it in a soft gut. At that point someone collided with him from behind, and that was when things got hairy.
HE WAS FROGMARCHED out, Fuller on one side, his mouth concave from the broken dentures and bleeding heavily from the nose, and a burly doorman on the other. A waiter hurried after with his coat and hat. They shoved him sprawling onto the wet pavement with what Will felt was unnecessary force.
“Don’t come back,” Fuller told him thickly, and spat on the pavement.
Will heaved himself to his knees, then his feet, once they’d gone inside. It was drizzling, the cold wet air a relief after the heat of the club and the fight. If Kim hadn’t been able to get out without that distraction, he deserved to get caught.
He’d taken a fair few punches, including a glancing one that landed just over his eye, and Fuller had added some vicious kicks when he’d gone down. It was a damn good thing he’d been pulled off by watchers, because Will’s ribs hurt. He stretched the pain out for a moment, waiting to see if Phoebe would emerge, but the door remained firmly shut. He hoped that meant she was all right but he lingered on the other side of the road a little longer anyway, keeping a weather eye out for policemen.
Nothing happened. He shrugged on his coat, muddy where it had been thrown in a puddle, slapped on his equally battered hat, and set off down the street.
There was a figure waiting under the lamppost at the end. Kim had on a large topcoat and an opera hat; Will supposed it must be the folding kind. He looked self-possessed and well put together. The bugger.
“Ouch,” he said as Will came under the lamplight. “That looks painful.”
“You should see the other fellow. Got out all right?”
“Entirely unnoticed, while you were drawing all eyes your way. Thank you, Will. That