Page 94 of The Rogue's Runaway Bride
A fair fight may bring honor, mate. But ye must know when to be ruthless—that, my friend, brings victory.Years earlier, a grizzled, bare-knuckled brawler had imparted that particular piece of wisdom.
Ruthless. Victory.The old fighter’s words playing in his thoughts, he sized up the hulking bastard’s weaknesses. He would keep them in brutal focus.
“I’m going to enjoy this, ye bloody fool,” Roderick taunted.
Jon faced the ox with a half-smile. “I suspect I will as well.”
Roderick canted his head, a look of confusion in his dull eyes. Jon’s cocky expression had stirred uncertainty.Blasted good thing, that.A fight was as much mental as physical.
Resembling a bull spurred by a red flag, the big man charged forward.
He swung. Jon darted back. Avoided the blow. Another clumsy punch. Another dodge. Roderick was a burly fool, more accustomed to intimidation than combat.
Suddenly, the dolt got lucky. His fist plowed into Jon’s upper chest.
“Damn.”
As Jon groaned, he heard Belle’s soft cry. The distress in her tone was like another blow.Block it out.He had to keep his full focus on the man who would grind him into the floor if given a chance.
He darted to the left. Avoided another punch. Roderick swung again. And again. Jon dodged the impacts, but then, the ox’s thick fist landed.Bloody hell.Jon steeled himself against the pain.
He had a strategy. It would work. But he had to stay the course.
Red-faced and breathing heavily, Roderick grimaced. Sweat peppered his brow. Soon, the buffoon would be worn out. Facing an opponent with well-honed instincts, he was tiring. Fast. Soon, his strength would ebb. His resistance would falter. A few well-placed strikes would be all it took to take him down.
Jon slammed him with a fist to the ribs. Another. And another.
Riled up by the blows Jon had inflicted, Roderick struck at him. Another poorly timed punch. Grunting in frustration, the ox swung again. A powerful blow. This one connected.By God, the pain.Sucking in a breath, Jon powered through it.
Time to turn the tables.
Allowing no warning, Jon plowed a fist into the big man’s ribs.Crack.Roderick groaned in pain. Another powerful jab. And then another. Jon pummeled him. The chest. The ribs. The gut.
Despite his pain-filled grunts, Roderick stayed on his feet. His massive fist found its target.Bugger it.The impact nearly ripped the breath from Jon’s lungs.
Taking a step back, Jon aimed for the oaf’s tender middle. For the solar plexus. He plowed his fist into him. Roderick moaned. There was no disguising his misery.
Time to close the deal.
A right hook to the bastard’s jaw.And then, Jon sent an uppercut into the big man’s chin.
Roderick collapsed like a puppet unmoored from its strings. Sprawled on the floor, he stared up at the ceiling. Incoherent groans spilled from his bloody mouth.
“Jon!” At the sound of Belle’s cry, he whipped around.
Kentsworth no longer held her. Her eyes wide with terror, she stared at the revolver in the cur’s right hand.Blast the cold-blooded bastard.
“God above, such a tiresome display.” Kentsworth leveled the gun directly at Jon. “I have always found mutual combat to be the stuff of brutes. A weapon is far more effective.”
Jon felt his jaw clench. Blast it, he knew Kentsworth’s kind. He should’ve known the rotter would be armed. The man was a coward. And now, he was getting desperate.
“Gideon, please, put down the gun,” Belle pleaded. The fear in her voice sliced into Jon like a knife.
“If the two of you make the right decision, I’ll see no need to use this.” Kentsworth made a show of brandishing the weapon. “Come now, Belle. It’s time to leave.”
Jon met his icy gaze. A muscle ticked in the bastard’s jaw. Despite the cool malice in his words, Kentsworth could not hide his fear. That made him all the more dangerous.
“She’s not going anywhere with you.” Jon stalked toward him. He had to get Belle away from him. And he had to get the weapon.
