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"You!" the man barked, stepping into Harry's path, his two cronies flanking him like shadows. "You're the one who kicked over my bike."
Harry stopped in his tracks, his expression unreadable. "Maybe it fell over on its own," he suggested with a nonchalant shrug, though they both knew it was a lie. “Or maybe it was karma. A man who yells at a little old woman in a bookstore probably has piles of bad karma.”
The man's face turned a shade redder, his fists clenching at his sides. "You think you're funny, huh? Kicking over bikes, throwing stones at windows. You're messing with the wrong people."
Harry's stance was relaxed, but his mind was alert, ready for anything. "Seems to me you're the one causing problems for this town, not the other way around. I don’t even know your damn name and I don’t like you."
“It’s Thomas. Remember that name. You’ll want to know the name of the guy who knocked you out.” The man stepped closer, the stench of his breath a mix of tobacco and rage. "You need to make up your mind. You’re here minding your business or you’re sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong. But I’d choose wisely. One of those things leaves your nose broken.”
Harry's eyes darkened, a silent signal that he was not to be trifled with. "Well, Tommy, I don’t know who you’re looking for or why, but it’s not my problem or theirs.” Harry gestured to everyone quietly gathering around him. “You didn’t do your job, whatever your job is, and now you’re panicking. Trying to clean up some mess. If anyone here knew anything, they’d have told you by now.”
“Bullshit. These stubborn assholes are hiding her. I know it.”
“Her who?” Harry asked, cocking up a brow, daring him to answer. “Why would a woman want to be hidden from you? I mean, besides running from your rank breath.”
“I’ll knock your head off,” the man hissed.
The threat hung in the air, as thick as the morning mist as he piled on more. "We'll burn this town to the ground if we don't get answers. Why did the phone ping here? Where is she?"
Harry took a calculated step forward, positioning himself between the men and the innocent bystanders beginning to notice the confrontation.
“You didn’t answer my question. Why is she, whoever you are looking for, in hiding? You scaring women? Running them off?”
“She knows what she’s got coming to her.” His hands were balled into fists. “The same thing that’s coming your way.”
One of the cronies, a wiry man with a scar tracing his jawline, pulled a knife with a swift, practiced motion. "I’ll cut you to ribbons,” he hissed.
The fight was swift and chaotic. Harry deflected the first few swings with ease, his body moving with the grace of a seasoned fighter. The townspeople scattered, screams echoing off the buildings. Harry managed to land a solid punch, knocking the knife-wielder off balance, but not before the blade sliced across his arm, a line of fire that instantly stained his shirt with blood.
He stepped back, assessing the wound with a grimace. It wasn't deep, but it was enough to remind him of the stakes. Harry's eyes flicked to the other two men, sizing them up and then planning on how to take them both down. He was outnumbered but these guys were slow in their movements. Stocky and predictable. Harry had been a boxer for years. He knew speed and agility won fights. Even with the cut to his arm, he knew he could hold his own.
The man on the motorcycle weighed his options, his gaze shifting between his fallen comrade and the steely determination in Harry's eyes. With a grunt of frustration, he signaled to his other crony.
“I’m not getting your blood on this suit. It’s worth more than you. But you started some shit, and you’re not going to like how it ends. You don’t know who you’re messing with.”
“Maybe we should find out,” Gio said, stepping to Harry’s side. “It shouldn’t be that hard. The internet is getting very good at these kinds of things. I post your picture. It goes viral. Then whatever dirty work you’re doing, will be exposed.”
“It’s not dirty work,” Thomas scoffed. “It’s sanctioned. It’s covered. We’re covered. Post whatever picture you want. We work for the good guys. The powerful ones.”
Gio ground his teeth together. “Guess we’ll find out.” He snapped the picture and glared at them. “It’s amazing howfast powerful people will drop you when you bring them bad attention.”
Thomas helped the third man to his feet and looked at Gio and Harry with anger.
“Stay out of our way.” They retreated, dragging their limping companion between them.
Harry watched them go, the adrenaline slowly ebbing from his veins.
“That was risky,” Harry warned. “You don’t need to get involved in this. I’m going to handle it.”
“You know the woman, don’t you? You’re with them?”
“I’m not with anyone,” Harry corrected. “Remember. I don’t have people. I’m just doing what’s right.”
“Hmm.” Gio was unconvinced. “If you do know them, if you have more people than you say, tell them we’re doing our best. What we’ve always done. But people here are getting antsy. Scared.”
Harry only nodded. "It's over for the moment," he assured them, though his arm throbbed in protest.
“Sir,” the old woman from the bookstore called. She didn’t speak English but she gestured toward his arm and mimed she would clean him up.
