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Her friend tilted his thick, squared-off head. “Whatsa matter? Am I bad company?”
She wanted to say yes but had been raised to be impeccably polite. “Excuse me.” Surprisingly, he let her go.
Once she was inside the tiny washroom, she knew why he’d been so agreeable. The window was five feet up the wall and so narrow she doubted even her leg would fit through. Mary Elizabeth sighed aloud and would’ve leaned her weary self against the stall except that it was probably crawling with germs that science hadn’t heard of yet.
What am I going to do? she implored her reflection as she patted a wet paper towel to her flushed cheeks. Inside her open purse, set on the rim of the sink, lay the plastic gun Mrs. Pidgin had given her. Mary Elizabeth smiled wanly. Perhaps she could fill the gun with water and squirt the brute to death.
Ah, well, Mrs. P.’s intentions had been good.
Her newfound friend was waiting outside the washroom door, patient as a puppy. “Missed you.” He grinned. “Hope you like rum and coke.” He held up a glass.
“No, thanks.” Trying to ignore him, she headed for the bar. Another female was sure to sympathize. “Excuse me,” she called, leaning over an unoccupied stool.
“Wait a sec,” the bartender, busy at the cash register, answered distractedly.
“You know,” came the high, now nightmarish voice close at Mary Elizabeth’s side, “if I didn’t have such a sweet, forgiving nature, I’d be mighty ticked off by now. Here I offer to give you a free tow, something worth fifty, sixty bucks...”
The bartender finally headed in Mary Elizabeth’s direction.
“Please, could you do me a favor?” Mary Elizabeth’s voice wobbled noticeably now, but at least she’d been able to fend off tears.
The young woman, who looked to be about her own age, glanced up from the tap where she was filling three glass mugs.
“Would you be so kind as to call Triple A for me? All I need is a tow. Here’s the number....”
The bartender’s left eyebrow arched. “And there’s a pay phone, right there.” She pointed with her chin.
“I know, but...” Mary Elizabeth rolled her eyes toward the man still crowding her, his breath on her neck.
The young woman huffed. “Sonny, leave ‘er alone, huh? You’re being a jerk.” Then she walked away, delivering the three beers to the far end of the bar. It was apparent she didn’t consider him a threat. Also apparent was the fact that she’d be of no help.
Mary Elizabeth slipped onto the stool, planted her elbows on the bar and dropped her head into her hands.
“So, what’s your name?” Her friend, who was evidently named Sonny, placed the rum and coke under her nose.
Too weary even to look up, she said, “Will you please leave me alone? It’s been a very long day.” Now tears did flood her vision. “Damn,” she spat, embarrassed by her weakness. On a spurt of anger she spun off the stool. This was a public place, and that, a public phone. No one had the right to stop her from going about her business.
“Hey, where you runnin’ off to now?” Sonny gripped her arm and gave it a yank. “Here I’m tryin’ to be nice... Whatsa matter? Don’t you like me?”
Something must’ve happened behind her because she noticed Sonny’s slitty eyes shift and refocus. Suddenly he went still, while a calm, deep voice with just a trace of a slow southern drawl said, “Why don’t you give it a rest?”
Mary Elizabeth turned in surprise. A tall, dark-haired man was lounging back in his bar stool, his eyes fixed on the TV screen. He seemed relaxed, but looking at him, she got a sense of tightly coiled alertness.
For the first time since she’d wandered in here, she drew a clear and easy breath. She wasn’t sure why; he certainly didn’t look like anybody a woman ought to be breathing easily over.
Sonny released her arm and stepped aside. His eyes narrowed even further. “What did you say?”
“Leave her alone. Let her make her call.” The stranger calmly took a sip of his beer and continued to watch the game.
Sonny shifted his considerable weight, one foot to the other. “And who’s gonna make me?”
Slowly, the man at the bar set down his mug and carefully got to his feet.
Mary Elizabeth couldn’t take her eyes off him. He was over six feet tall and powerfully built. Tough as the road he’d traveled in on, too, she’d bet. He had wind-tossed black hair, steely blue eyes, weathered skin and a jaw that was unrelenting. Dust burnished his black boots, and the edges of his pale denim jacket were frayed. Beneath the jacket, tucked into low-slung, well-worn jeans, he wore a plain black T-shirt.
But the thing about this man that mesmerized her so wasn’t his clothing or eyes or build. She didn’t know what it was, but it wasn’t physical...although his physical aspect was certainly impressive, too.
Mary Elizabeth bit her lower lip while her eyes traveled over him, up, down, up and down again. In all her life she’d never met anyone quite like him. He was like a new, unexplored land, and though her stomach jumped with something akin to fright when she gazed at him, she didn’t want to miss a single mile.
“Look, I don’t want any trouble,” he said with easy composure, raising his hands like a gunslinger showing he was unarmed.
Sonny snickered.
“But if you start it, I’ll guarantee I won’t run away.”
“Oh, yeah?” Sonny replied with all the cleverness of a block of cement.
Mary Elizabeth’s skin crawled with deepening dread. She’d never witnessed a fight before, but this situation seemed to have all the signs of one brewing.
“Go make your phone call, miss.”
With a start, she realized the tall stranger was talking to her. The bright animal darkness of his eyes made her breath catch. She nodded.
But Sonny responded, “I already told her that isn’t necessary.”
The blue-eyed man impaled Sonny with an immobilizing stare. Then, still holding him in his sights, he took Mary Elizabeth by the arm. “Come on.”
Relief flooded her as he began to escort her to the phone.
No sooner had he turned his back, however, than Sonny gave him a hard shove, sending him stumbling forward.
With a plummeting heart, Mary Elizabeth realized that the fight had not been averted, but rather it had just begun.
The stranger who’d come to her aid rebounded quickly and shoved Sonny in return. “Back off,” he warned, blue eyes blazing.
“Go to hell,” Sonny replied.
And then fists did fly. Mary Elizabeth let out a faint “Yi,” the only sound she was capable of, as the two men crashed into bar stools and people retreated.
“I don’t believe this!” she whispered, retreating with them.
A table went over, glasses sliding and smashing to the floor. The room resounded with the smack of fists, with grunts and fabric ripping, and like in a movie, it was all set to music—”Welcome to Earth, Third Rock from the Sun”—thumping from the jukebox.
At least they seemed evenly matched, Mary Elizabeth thought, watching them go at it—though she did sense a quickness in the taller man that Sonny lacked.
What Sonny had was a mean streak. She watched in horrified silence as he grabbed a beer bottle off the bar, smashed it against the brass rail and lunged at her tall dark stranger.
“Get out of here,” he called to her just before the jagged bottle came down on the side of his forehead. Immediately blood beaded along the gash.
Rather than rattle him, the cut seemed to deepen his anger and resolve. He picked up a chair and slammed it against Sonny’s arm, dislodging the broken bottle from his grip. Then he pushed Sonny against the bar where he kept him pinned until Sonny looked ready to give up.
Mary Elizabeth had no idea where the third guy came from, but suddenly there he was, gripping the dark stranger’s shoulder, swinging him around and landing a blow to his midsection that made her nauseated.
Logic told her she should use the diversion to slip away. Nobody was interested in her anymore. Yet she couldn’t leave. It was clear that the man who’d come to her aid was as much a stranger in this bar as she was, while Sonny was a local, and if she abandoned him, he’d probably get pulverized by Sonny’s friends.
She shouldn’t care, she told herself. She didn’t know this man, she’d never see him again, and if he was in a bar like this he was probably accustomed to fighting, anyway. Besides, she had a responsibility to the tiny life inside her. That especially had her concerned.
But if she slunk away now, what sort of person would that make her? How would she ever face herself in a mirror?
Without another second’s thought, she dug into her purse for the plastic gun. Tossing her bag onto a nearby table, she gripped the gun in two hands and flexed her knees. “All right, everybody freeze!” she called out.
Nobody heard. The debacle continued.
“Hey!” she hollered, affronted. This time a few onlookers turned. She heard someone say, “She’s got a gun,” and was pleased that the person sounded at least somewhat alarmed.
Within seconds the word passed. Attention turned on her like a tide. Those nearby backed away. A few people slipped out the door.
“Stop fighting,” she shouted. “Stop!” To her utter amazement, they did. The three men turned and looked at her, then each of them swore, different epithets, but all at the same time.
“Now...get against the wall there,” she ordered as she searched her memory for anything else she could borrow from the police movies she’d seen.
The three men moved, amazing her once again. A hush had fallen over the place. Even the jukebox had obediently shut down.
“Good.” She straightened, feeling a heady sense of power. “Now, you...” She waved the gun at the bartender. “I want you to call the police, and this time don’t tell me there’s a pay phone.”
In the dead silence, Mary Elizabeth became aware of sirens wailing in the distance. Confused, she glanced at the young woman behind the bar who made a face that said, What do you think I am, an idiot?
In no time flat, blue-and-red lights were throbbing against the windows, dueling with the neon. The doors banged open and six uniformed officers hurried in, straight to the heart of the fray.
“Thank God you got here so fast,” Mary Elizabeth said, but the officers coming toward her didn’t return her smile. In fact, every one of them had drawn his weapon.
“Drop the gun,” one of them ordered.
She looked at each of the six faces, at each of the six guns pointed her way. “What...?” All at once, she realized what was happening. “Oh. You think...”
But before she could explain the gun was only a toy, three of the policemen had cocked their pistols. She dropped the gun.
A policewoman immediately lunged forward, grasped Mary Elizabeth’s right wrist and twisted her arm up behind her back. Another officer, a serious young man with a dedicated, boyish face, carefully picked up the fallen gun.
After that, events swam together in a dreamlike sequence: across the room, the bartender talking excitedly, pointing this way and that; the odious Sonny saying, “But...but he...but...”; and the tall dark stranger scowling at her, Mary Elizabeth, where a moment ago he’d been duking it out on her behalf.
“Sonny, Sonny,” a craggy-faced sergeant scolded, shaking his head. “It isn’t even Saturday night.”
Sonny returned a sheepish grin.
“Okay, let’s go,” the sergeant said. It was then that Mary Elizabeth noticed the handcuffs glinting on the three men’s wrists. No, that’s a mistake, she wanted to cry out. The tall one is a good guy. But just then she heard the officer who’d picked up her gun reading her her rights. At the same time something cold and metallic encircled her own wrists.
Mary Elizabeth’s face drained of color. “You’re handcuffing me?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“But there’s obviously been a misunderstanding.”
“We’ll straighten it out at the station. Do you have a purse?”
“Uh, yes.” Mary Elizabeth indicated a nearby table.
The officer picked up her bag and said, “Come with me, please.”
Mary Elizabeth was led through the gawking crowd, close on the heels of her tall, dark stranger. “I don’t believe this,” she muttered, her eyes hot with humiliation.
“Why the hell not?” he snarled over his shoulder. “Acting as stupid as you just did, you must land in messes like this all the time.” His hard lips curled as he muttered something that sounded to her like “Liverpool.” She frowned in confusion until she reasoned he’d said “Little fool.”
“Sorry,” she said.
“You should be.”
Outside, she was led to a cruiser, while the three men were taken to a rescue van where medics waited to patch up their injuries.
She was just slipping into the back seat of the cruiser when it occurred to her that she hadn’t gotten her hero’s name. She peered up at the serious young officer, and with a giggle that rose from hysteria, asked, “Who was that masked man?”
He frowned, staring at her oddly, then shut the door.
She sat back and surveyed her surroundings with combined interest and dread. “Oh, Lord, I’m riding in a cage!” she moaned. The next moment, the full significance of what was happening to her hit home, and two hot tears trickled down her cheeks.
After that, events really blurred. She was taken to the station and booked, only vaguely aware that the three men involved in the fight had been brought in, as well. Her possessions got handed over; she was escorted down a corridor to a cell; handcuffs came off, toilet facilities were pointed out, and then, with a sound that cut right through her, the iron-barred door clanged shut.
And so ended Mary Elizabeth Drummond’s first day of independence.
CHAPTER THREE
THE FIRST THING on Pete’s mind when he opened his eyes the next morning was his bike. Where the hell was it, and if it had even one scratch, how did the fool who’d scratched it want to die?
The second thing he thought about was Mary Elizabeth Drummond, that preppy little pain in the butt who was trying to wreck his vacation—and doing a pretty good job of it, too. He’d never met anyone so fly-brained in his life, and why he’d stuck his neck out for her was still a mystery.
Pete eased onto his back and scowled at the water-stained ceiling of his cell, recalling the previous night. If she just hadn’t walked into that bar, none of this would’ve happened. He was familiar with places like that, knew the type of guy who frequented them. For the most part, just your ordinary, law-abiding Joe. But add a woman to the equation—an unattached woman, he amended, thinking of the few who’d been there with their husbands or boyfriends—and your ordinary Joe suddenly transmuted into King Kong. She should have known that, too—although, to be fair, he doubted she’d spent much time in bars.
Pete’s mouth tightened in a rueful grimace. Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world...
Last night after being brought in, they’d sat at adjacent desks while being booked. That’s when he’d first heard her name. Mary Elizabeth Drummond. Even in his thoughts he put a spin of mockery on it. He wasn’t sure why, except that the name struck him as sort of stuffy and tedious. It had no...give.
Sitting where he was, he’d been able to hear the reluctance in her voice when the officer asked her name, a reluctance that had deepened when she was asked her address, birth date and social security number. Pete got the feeling she didn’t want the police to know who she was. For a while, in fact, she’d actually refused to give her address. Said she was in transit, moving from one state to another, and at present didn’t really have an address. Pete had noted her amazement and dismay when all her vital statistics came up on the computer screen, anyway, just on the cue of her social security number.
What really roused Pete’s curiosity, though, was the anxiety he’d detected when she’d been asked if there was anyone she wanted to call. No, there was no one, she’d said, an answer that had compelled him to turn and take a new, harder look at her. A princess like that, you’d think she’d be on the phone right away, a dozen people she wanted to complain to.
Another thing about her that didn’t jibe was her voice. It was husky and deep-throated, a Scotch-and-soda voice that belonged more to a torch singer in a smoky piano bar than to someone wearing Bass Weeguns loafers.
Pete winced reflexively when he remembered the turnaround in her attitude after she was asked to explain what had happened at the Starlight Lounge. Suddenly she was a fountain of information. A damn Niagara Falls of information. And she was angry.
