Standing in the Shadows (41 page)

Connor pressed his keys into Erin's hand. "Get your mom and sister into the car. Quick. We need to have a talk with that guy."

"But you—"

"Get them into that car and start it up. Now."

His tone left no room for argument. She bundled Mom and Cindy into the backseat, slammed the door shut, and leaped into the driver's side. Cindy sobbed in Mom's arms, and Mom was crooning comforting sounds. Neither of them seemed even remotely aware of the dangerous drama unfolding outside. She started up the car. Connor's phone was lying on the seat. She snatched it up and clutched it like a weapon.

Her heart beat so hard, it was about to burst out of her chest.

Billy Vega swaggered out of the doorway. Connor drew a mental sigh of relief. He was a tall, dark guy, well dressed, with florid, sensual good looks and a gym rat's body: thick through the upper body, rigid through the midsection, overdeveloped shoulders hunched over, hammy fists dangling like an ape. No worries.

The blond girl who had pushed past them in the corridor darted out the door after Billy. More guys filed out, arraying themselves behind Billy: five, six, seven, eight… nine of them in all, counting Billy. With Sean at his side, the odds were still OK if nobody pulled a gun. He really, really didn't want to involve the gun, since that often necessitated shooting the gun, which was a fucking dangerous mess. He was still hoping to fly below the radar with this thing, but if bullets started to zing, he could kiss that fond hope good-bye.

He hefted the cane and wished that Davy or Seth were there.

"That girl was with me," Vega said. "Who the fuck are you guys?"

Sean nudged him. "Got any preference as to how we handle this?"

"Just make sure he's fit to talk afterwards," Connor replied softly. He addressed Billy. "Cindy told her sister that she wanted to go home. We're just here to give her a ride. We don't want any trouble."

"Hear that, guys? He doesn't want any trouble," Vega sneered. "Isn't that sweet. Too fuckin' bad, asshole, because you found some."

The loose battle formation started closing in on them. He and Sean sauntered closer. He made a big show of his limp as he scanned them for signs of weapons. Miles hesitated, and hurried after them.

Connor caught Sean's eye and nicked a questioning glance toward Miles. Sean gave him a who-knows? eyebrow twitch.

Too many unknowns. He wished he'd told Erin to gun the engine and drive straight home, but she probably wouldn't have obeyed him anyhow. There was no way out of this now except for through.

Billy's eyes narrowed when they landed on Miles. "I know you. You're that stupid band's autistic sound geek, huh? What's your name again, you big ugly fuck? Igor?"

"You hit her," Miles said. His voice was shaking.

"She was begging for it," Billy said. "The useless bitch."

Miles lowered his head like a bull and charged. Connor and Sean both hissed in anticipatory agony as Billy jerked aside, ducking the wild roundhouse punch, and rammed his fist up into Miles's belly. Miles doubled over, choking, and Billy followed up with a knee to Miles's face and a vicious elbow jammed down into his kidney. The kid went down like a felled tree. Shit. They should've coached him, but watching
X-Files
videos in the basement was no way to train for a street fight. Everybody had to learn the hard way. There were no shortcuts.

No time to fret, though, because Miles's opening gambit was the signal for the fun to begin. The goons closed in, and they got real busy, moving as if through unmeasurable slow-time, a state that he always slipped into in combat situations. Sean exploded into action at his side with a spinning kick that caught one of Billy's thugs in the teeth and sent him bouncing off the hood of a car. Flashy, as always.

Billy ran straight at him, bellowing. Connor flipped the cane up into guard. Billy lunged for the bait and gripped the cane, and Connor flip-twisted it, trapped Billy's wrist with his hand, and whipped it down until the bones in Billy's wrist snapped.

Billy lurched forward, sucking air. Connor tossed him away and spun to deal with the guy behind him. He parried the punch, sliced the heel of his hand down onto the bridge of the guy's nose, and kneed him smartly in the groin. A gurgling shriek; two down. Another attack; a sweep of the cane, a quick, judicious elbow jab to the throat, and he used the guy's own leftover momentum to fling him straight into his buddy, who was coming at Connor from behind. The two men crashed to the ground. The point of his boot to the kidney finished off the first guy, a forefinger stabbed into the soft pulse point under the ear finished off the second. Four down. Not bad, for a gimp.

Miles stumbled to his feet again and launched himself at Billy. Billy toppled, broke his fall with his broken wrist, and screamed. Miles started pummeling him. Good man. Connor left him to it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sean smash one guy's kneecap and then spin through the air like a dervish as he went for the next attacker, but he couldn't pay real close attention; the last two guys were circling him warily and both of them had pulled out knives. He danced back, panting, and tried to keep both in his peripheral vision. His bad leg was trembling beneath him.

Darkness rippled, a flurry of movement. One of his opponents flew, shrieking, across the parking lot. He smashed into the grill of a big Chevy pickup truck and slid limply to the ground, twitching.

The other looked around himself, backed away, and fled.

"Hey, Davy," Connor called out.

Davy stepped out of the shadows, dressed in black. He tossed the blade he'd taken from the guy up into the air, and caught it, nodding his approval. "Nice balance," he said calmly. "Maybe I'll keep this one."

"Thanks," Connor said.

"You're welcome."

"But I could've taken them on my own," Connor added.

Davy looked amused. "You're still welcome."

Connor looked around. Eight guys were sprawled out in various attitudes of pain and penitence on the ground. Miles landed a wet-sounding punch in Billy's face and hauled off for another.

"Whoa. Miles! Hold off on him," he called out.

"He hit Cindy," Miles panted.

"So beat him to a pulp later. First let me interrogate him. OK?"

Miles subsided, and dragged himself to his feet. He was shaking so violently he could hardly stand. His mouth and jaw were covered with blood that streamed from his broken nose, and one of the lenses of his glasses was shattered. "I want to learn to fight like you guys."

The three of them exchanged wry glances. Miles had no idea what it cost to learn to fight like that. Their father had taught them hand-to-hand combat practically since they could walk, and lucky for them, since Crazy Eamon's wild boys were the target of every angry asshole spoiling for a fight in all of Endicott Falls and its environs. They would have gotten slaughtered regularly if they hadn't trained like commandos.

Eamon had been an expert in several disciplines, but as time went on, each brother developed his own preferences. Davy was drawn to the mystical stuff: kung fu, aikido, tai chi, and all the woo-woo philosophy that went with it. Connor preferred the angular, straightforward practicality of karate. Sean favored the acrobatic stuff, full of flying kicks and back flips. And that training had saved their asses. Many times. Just as their father had assured them that it would.

Crazy Eamon's legacy was a formidable one. Miles had no idea.

But the tenderhearted Sean just clapped Miles gently on the back. "Sure, man. Just be prepared to work your ass off for hours every day until every muscle screams for mercy and every inch of you drips with sweat. You'll get the hang of it."

Miles looked daunted, but he wiped blood from his mouth with his sleeve, nodding. "I don't want to ever get slammed like that again."

"No guarantees, buddy," Sean warned. "I've gotten slammed plenty of times. There's always some trick you don't know."

"Or they come at you six at a time," Davy said. "That's always a bitch. But training helps."

"Speaking of getting slammed," Connor said. "I saw you leave your balls wide open twice, Sean. Pull up your guard. It's not about looking good, it's about walking away in one piece. Show-off."

"None of those clowns could've gotten inside my guard if I'd given them a written invitation," Sean snapped. "And you're a fine one to talk about stupid risks with your track record, bozo. If you see me do it in a real fight, then you can give me hell. Until then, shut up."

Erin barreled into him and grabbed him. "Are you all right?"

The anxiety in her voice made him smile. "Miles got pounded pretty bad, but he's on his feet," he told her. "Nothing to worry about."

"Nothing to worry about? Nine against three? Is that what you call nothing to worry about? God, Connor! It happened so fast!"

He tried to put his arms around her, but she jerked away. "You didn't tell me that was going to happen!" she shouted.

"You didn't say one word about fighting with him! You said 'talk,' remember? Don't you ever, ever do that to me again, Connor McCloud! Do you hear me?"

"He started it," Connor protested. "And I didn't—"

"Don't even try!" she yelled. "Just shut up!"

He tried kissing her, but she was having none of it. "Look, babe," he soothed. "Why don't you go on back to the car and look after your mom and Cindy while we have a talk with Billy?"

"Let the little lady go and be good behind the scenes while the big manly men do their big manly thing, hmm?"

Erin's eyes were afire with anger. God, she was so red-hot when she was mad. It was making him hard just looking at her.

"Hey," Davy called. "You can spare yourself this argument, Con. Miles clobbered him." Davy crouched over Billy, touched his throat with his fingertip, peeked under his eyelids. "He's out of it for a while."

The rat-faced blonde ran over to Billy and flung herself across his limp form. "You killed Billy!" she shrilled. "Fuckin' murderers!"

Connor rubbed his aching leg, and visualized a cigarette with a sharp pang of longing. "Nobody's killed anybody, nor will they," he said wearily. "I guess we just have to wait for him to come around."

"The police will be here any minute," Erin said.

"Police?" Connor gaped, appalled. "What do you mean, police?"

Erin held up his cell phone. "Of course, the police!" she said tartly. "What do you expect? Nine guys attack you all at once, and what am I supposed to do? Twiddle my thumbs? Wave pom poms?"

"You were supposed to let me deal with it!" he snarled. "I don't want to talk to the police! The police cannot help me right now!"

"That's just tough!" she shot back. "You scared me to death! Now deal with the consequences!"

He glanced at Sean and Davy. "Let's get the fuck out of here. We can hunt down Billy some other time."

Sean turned to address the crowd of gawkers gathering around them. "Public service announcement, everybody! The cops will be here any minute, so start thinking about your witness statements now!"

The crowd melted away like magic.

The back door of the Cadillac was open, and Barbara Riggs was half in, half out, eyes frozen wide. He handed her his cane. "Would you throw that into the back window for me, Mrs. Riggs?" he asked. "Let's get going. I'm sure you want to get Cindy home."