The Wrong Mr. Darcy - Evelyn Lozada Page 0,91

kicked, as hard and fast as possible. She swung her foot up between the assistant’s legs, connecting with the tiny woman’s crotch. There was a satisfying thud. Stunned and in pain, Madeline cried out and fell back a step.

Before anyone had time to react further, Hara bent forward at the waist then whipped her head back, smashing O’Donnell in the face with the back of her head. He shrieked, high-pitched, and suddenly her arms were free.

Hara jumped away.

Charles was there, between her and the door, holding the pipe in his hands, but he was swaying and staring down at Derek.

She tried to leap past him, but he caught her. “Let me go!” she yelled, twisting and trying to find a bare patch of flesh to bite.

“You do not let that bitch go, Charles,” said O’Donnell, blotting the blood from his nose with a white lapel kerchief. “Hara, calm down. Madeline, stop whining.” His assistant was bent over and groaning, tears of pain running down her cheeks. A snot bubble hung from one dainty nostril. The owner handed her his handkerchief. “Wipe your nose. Jesus. And go get the car.”

Madeline limped away, glaring at Hara.

Hara was disgusted by the people and their blood and snot and evil actions. She was also disgusted by the heavy body odor coming off Charles. He had his arms wrapped around her like steel bands, holding her firmly against him.

Time seemed to pause, everyone silent, when Derek groggily got to his feet. “Let her go,” he said to his teammate.

“I’ll take you down again, man. Stay down.” Charles’s voice sounded like it was coming from far away.

“You fucking backstabber. Think you can take me if I don’t have my back turned?” Derek didn’t give anyone time to react, leaping onto Charles, knocking Hara out of the way. Unfortunately, right back into O’Donnell’s path.

She swung around, fists up, and planted her feet. I’m gonna beat down this asshole myself.

But the old man faced her calmly, his arm outstretched, a small silver pistol held in a steady grip. Aimed at her.

Derek and Charles, unaware of the new development, fought furiously. They traded punches and kicks, tossing each other around. Two bears, brawling.

“Hara. You did this, you know,” O’Donnell said, shaking a finger. He stepped close, his breath hot and moist on Hara’s cheek, offering a stench of rotting leaves. “You and your father just couldn’t leave well enough alone. You think a couple of blackmailers are going to outsmart me?”

“I didn’t know anything! I didn’t know the contest was rigged. And I didn’t know your games were rigged until an hour ago. I was simply doing my job.”

“Rigged?” A deep, loud voice vibrated the air around them.

It was then Hara realized Derek had Charles in a headlock and they had stopped fighting. He was staring at the gun in O’Donnell’s hand. He flexed the arm around Charles’s neck, his blood vessels and muscles bulging. “What do you mean the games were rigged? Charles?” Derek asked, confusion and anger darkening his eyes.

“You don’t understand.” His teammate slumped, limp in Derek’s grip.

Derek shoved Charles down to the ground in disgust and scooped up the pipe. “What? What don’t I understand?”

“Easy does it, son.” O’Donnell cocked the trigger, the gun remaining on Hara. He took a few steps away from her. “This little girl would bleed out quickly, I’m guessing.”

“I had to do it,” said Charles, ignoring O’Donnell. The big man was on his hands and knees, his head swinging back and forth. “He had me over a barrel. He’s been making me tank shots. Either that or he was turning me and Ma in for accepting the bribe. He’d bet against the team, knowing we were going to lose.”

“Last year, the championships. We lost by two points.”

It was hard for Hara to watch the hurt that ran across Derek’s face.

“Yes. But it was because of him.” Charles got up slowly, pointing to O’Donnell.

Derek swung back to Hara and O’Donnell, keeping Charles in his sight, while gripping the pipe, holding it at his side.

O’Donnell kept Hara between himself and Derek. “Well, let’s not blame this all on me, Mr. Butler. You liked the money. You agreed to tank early this season so the house would bet against the Fishers. We’d just barely make the playoffs, and then win as the dark horse, taking another huge pot. With Darcy here, a win was guaranteed. We just had to slow him up a bit in the beginning.”

Hara felt cold sweat pour down her