“There you are, Fleet-foot Vi.” George cracked his knuckles. His completely bald head gleamed in the sunlight. “I’ve been searching for you for a while. Too long for my taste.”
The henchman spat on the ground. “No more games, harlot.”
Ha! Of all the things Violante was, harlot wasn’t one of them. She wasn’t desperate enough to solicit herself. Not yet.
Keith pushed her behind his back, forming a human shield in front of her. “What do you want?”
George stepped closer, scratching his short beard. “She owes me something, and I either get it back, or teach her a lesson and then get it back. Her choice.”
Violante’s instinct was to run and save her neck, but she wouldn’t get far. And Keith…he could take care of himself. He didn’t need her, did he?
“I can pay you,” Keith said in a calm, cold voice.
George shook his head. “She stole my mother’s ring.”
And sold it without making much because it’d been a fake, or so the man who had acquired it had told her. Better to steal from rich people and feel guilty than from mobsters and remain poor. And risk her neck.
“No one steals from me,” George added.
No one stole from him because he stole from everyone else. It was a circle of life of sorts.
“We can settle the situation—” Keith didn’t have the chance to finish the sentence.
George lunged and aimed a punch at his head. Keith parried the blow and returned the favour, hitting George’s stomach with one smooth move. The thug doubled over with a gasp, his eyes growing wide.
Goodness. Keith was fast. She remembered him being good at boxing. He still was.
Instead of helping George, the henchman grabbed Violante’s wrist and shoved her against the wall. “Harlot.”
She hit her head hard, and flashes of white light danced in her field of vision. The sounds of the fight between Keith and George receded as a buzzing noise rang in her ears.
“The ring,” the henchman said. His putrid breath made her want to gag.
She turned her face away, fighting to stay conscious. “I don’t have it.”
The henchman raised a fist. “Liar.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the blow, but the pain never came. Only thuds and the sickening noise of a punch hitting flesh reached her ears. When she opened her eyes, George was on the ground, moaning, and the henchman staggered on his feet, waving his arms about like an acrobat wire-walking. Blood oozed from his nose. She would have laughed if she’d had the energy.
“Are you all right?” Keith cupped her face with gentle hands. A corner of his cheek was red, but aside from that, he was the same handsome man she’d met.
Her legs gave in and her eyes shut before she could say anything.
