Out of Time (30 page)

Dixie looked for Lester. Where was that big palooka?

“Let go,” Elizabeth said, as she managed to get to her feet, turning when she did and slapping his face.

He smiled, even as the red mark blossomed on his cheek. “Like it rough, huh? You’re gonna have to do better than that if you—”

The rest of his sentence never made it past his snarling lips. The words and a good portion of nose were smashed back by the force of a hard fist connecting flush with his face. The power of the punch sent his chair toppling. He landed on the floor with a clattering thud.

Everyone in the club fell silent, waiting like a derelict old fireworks factory hoping for that errant spark. Jimmy pushed himself upright and gingerly covered his nose. He looked up to see Simon flexing his hand, towering over him.

Jimmy coughed through the blood that dripped over his chin and gushed down the back of his throat. “You broke my nose,” he gurgled.

“Next time I’ll break your bloody neck,” Simon growled.

God, it felt good to hit someone, Simon thought, as he clenched his fist. He glared down at the man, still sitting stunned on the floor, willing him to stand up so he could hit him again. Jimmy was too shocked at the sight of his own blood to move. Tacitly satisfied, Simon turned his attention to Elizabeth. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. That was—Look out!” she cried, and tugged on Simon’s sleeve. He ducked, barely missing being hit in the back of the neck by Roy’s rabbit punch.

Simon stepped aside, and Roy’s momentum caused him to careen off balance. He staggered and Elizabeth stepped forward, lifted her tray and clobbered him on the back of the head. The metal dented with a resounding bang. Stunned, Roy lurched forward and fell onto a small table that gave way under his weight.

Simon blinked in surprise. “Elizabeth?”

“What?” she said innocently.

Eugene grunted and wedged himself out of his chair. “So you wanna play, huh?” he said, and charged at Simon. There wasn’t time to react, and the two of them crashed into another table. The stake in Simon’s pocket dug into his ribs. Teacups flew in every direction, hitting the floor and shattering into jagged shards. Freshly ordered whiskey dripped from the remnants.

“We just got that,” a man lamented, more concerned about the wasted booze than the pile of humanity at his feet.

“Told you we should have gone to Lenny’s,” his friend griped, oblivious as Simon pushed Eugene off his chest.

Like cinders from a wildfire caught in the wind, smaller skirmishes flared up all around the room. Lester and Charlie did their best to put them out before they grew too hot. The blistering around the edges festered enough to keep them away from the main attraction.

Simon laid into Eugene with vicious blows. All sense of purpose was gone, only blind rage remained. All his pent up frustration was unleashed in each strike. He pinned Eugene to the floor and pummeled him. His hard fist mashed into the man’s soft face. Eugene cried out for mercy, but Simon didn’t care. He gripped the man’s shirt front and hit and hit and hit.

All thoughts of pity had evaporated in the heat and the unquenchable anger. It wasn’t Eugene he was hitting, but King. In his mind, all he could see was that swarthy bastard’s face, smirking at his helplessness. Eugene couldn’t fight back, all he could do was try to fend off the blows.

Roy recovered from the blow to his head and pushed the broken table to the side. He jumped up, grabbing Simon by the collar of his coat, and pulled him to his feet.

Elizabeth tried to intervene, but Roy swatted her aside like an annoying housefly. A kid in a man’s body—twice as strong as he was smart—he spun Simon around and cracked him hard on the chin. Simon tried to find where Elizabeth had gone, but the world dimmed. Like in an old fashioned movie, his vision tunneled, a circle of light fighting against the fade to black. Desperate to find her, he tried to push away the encroaching darkness.

He stumbled and grabbed onto to whatever he could, then opened his eyes to see Jimmy’s grinning face. The prospect of a good fight (a good fight being one where they outnumbered the other guy three to one) pushed all worries of his flattened nose aside, and he punched Simon in the gut. Bile rose in Simon’s throat as his diaphragm did its level best to fly out of his mouth. He gasped for air, but his chest burned like he’d been skewered with a fiery poker.

Elizabeth scrambled to her feet and grabbed Jimmy by the shoulder. Cocking her arm, she lunged into the punch.

Her tiny fist smashed into Jimmy’s head right under the temple. Her knuckles popped as the tendons stretched and snapped back like rubber bands. It hurt like hell, but she set her feet and was about to throw another punch when, out of nowhere, Lester stepped in.

A blow to the temple was an E ticket ride to what boxers called queer street. Lester took him the rest of the way.

Without missing a beat, Lester grabbed Elizabeth by the arms, picked her up and set her aside. She was about to step back into the melee when another set of strong hands clamped around her arms.

“Let him do his job,” Charlie said.

Elizabeth struggled in his grip and watched as the bouncer did what he did best—bounced.

Roy had picked up a chair and raised it over his head to finish Simon off, but Lester was too fast. He lunged forward and slugged Roy with a swift, straight right. Roy stumbled and dropped the chair. Lester delivered a quick one-two combination and Roy crumpled to the floor.

As quickly as it had started, the fight was over.

Jimmy lay unconscious, his broken nose oozing blood, Eugene, long since having given up, sat huddled on the floor, and Roy had enough sense left in his head to know when to call it quits. He was no match for Lester and he knew it. Everyone knew it. “Just havin’ a little fun.”

“Get your boys and get out,” Lester said. “Or would ya like me to show ya the door? Up close and personal like?”

Roy flushed and finally shook his head.

Simon staggered to his feet as Roy brushed past.

He started forward, but Lester put a strong hand on his shoulder. “S’all over, Professor,” he said. “Sorry it took me so long. A few others tried to join in.”

Simon shrugged out of his grip, the searing pain in his back slowly subsiding.

“Come on, Jimmy,” Roy said, as he slapped him back to consciousness.

As Eugene crawled across the floor to his side, Jimmy came back around. He looked up again, only to see Simon glaring down at him. Cutting his losses, he blearily got to his feet. Lester stepped forward and escorted the trio to the door.

Charlie let go of Elizabeth and turned to the rest of the bar. “All right. Show’s over. Club’s closed.”

The patrons buzzed with the excitement of the fight and reluctantly made their way to the door. A few even stopped at the bar to even up tabs with Dix, who’d been hiding behind it.

Elizabeth came to Simon’s side. “Are you all right?”

He nodded, although it was clear from the pinched look on his face, he wasn’t. “And you?”

Elizabeth knew better than to push him. “My butt’s seen better days,” she said, rubbing the spot where she’d landed.

Simon started to laugh, but the movement was too painful. He sufficed with a weak smile and a touch of her cheek.

She wrinkled her nose. “You reek.”

His tuxedo, what was left of it, was soaked with alcohol. He tried vainly to straighten the hem of his jacket, running his hands over the sopping material. When they hit the bulge in his pocket, he cursed under his breath.

Elizabeth’s brow furrowed with worry. “What is it?”

“The watch,” he said and pulled the gold chain from his pocket. If the watch was damaged, there would be no way for them to return home.

He opened the clasp and they both sighed in relief. It was all right.

Neither of them saw the older gentleman with the thatch of white hair watching them, his eyes growing round with shocked recognition at the sight of the watch. Stuffing his small notebook into his breast pocket, he quickly joined the throng headed for the door.

THE STORM THAT REFUSED to break held true to form and hovered northeast of the island. The heavy cloud cover kept in the heat like the lid on a boiling pot. Finally, the next day, the clouds broke and the sun triumphantly poked through. Simon had insisted they stay in as much as possible to lessen their exposure to King and his men, but Elizabeth was going stir crazy inside their little apartment. Eventually, she managed to cajole Simon into taking a walk to break the monotony.

They took the subway up to Fifth Avenue and the Vanderbilt gate entrance to Central Park. Brilliant sun glittered off the glass panes of the Conservatory as they walked deeper into the park. The shores of the great reservoir stretched out in front of them. They walked along in peaceful silence under the shade of a grove of trees circling the perimeter. The paths diverged and meandered, but Elizabeth’s step didn’t falter; she knew exactly where she was going and Simon was content to follow.

They crested the top of a small hill and Elizabeth stopped. “This is what I wanted to show you,” she said, pointing across the velvety grass.

Standing on a slight knoll in the distance was a castle. The design was simple, but the effect was magical.

“Belvedere Castle,” she said, and turned to him. “And you’re my knight in shining armor.”

His chin was bruised and his green eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep.

She reached up and gently touched the bruise near his eye. “And sporting a heck of a shiner.”

Simon pulled her hand away and squeezed it. “Where did you learn to fight like that, or am I better off in ignorance?”

“Daddy. Thought it was a good idea for me to learn a little self-defense. What about you?”

“Boarding school. My first year I learned how to take a punch. My second, how to give one.”

“And your third?”

“That it’s better to avoid them altogether.”

“Very sage for a teenager.”

“Well, I am British.”

Elizabeth smiled and pulled them toward the shade of a small grove of trees.

“Some day,” Simon said, “I’ll take you to England. Show you a real castle.”

Elizabeth leaned into his side. “Do you miss it?”

“England? No, not very much.”

They veered down a winding path. “There are some things,” he continued, his attention momentarily distracted. “But I haven’t thought of it as home in a very long time.”

She tried to follow his line of sight, but couldn’t see anything. He was probably just being cautious.

“Do you miss Texas?” he asked.

“Not since Daddy died. Anyway, the idea of Texas is much more appealing than the reality. I do kind of miss home though.”

He hmm’d in agreement.

“I miss my car,” she said.

“That dilapidated, old piece of scrap?”

“Snob.”

He chuckled. “It’s odd, but I miss grading papers.”

“You never graded papers. I graded papers.”

“Then I miss you grading papers.”

She laughed and shook her head. “What else do you miss?”

“My books. And an electric shaver.”

Her hand stayed to caress his cheek. He closed his eyes for a moment, and the smile he’d been fighting curled his lips.

“You’re doing pretty well without it,” she said, gently running her fingers along his jaw line. “But you won’t have to fight with the safety razor much longer,” she said, hoping the hint of sadness she felt didn’t show through. “Only four more days, and if the watch works we’ll be right back where we started, like none of this ever happened.”

Left unspoken was the question—what if the watch didn’t work? A momentary flush of anxiety coursed through her, but it soon passed. The watch would work. It would.

It was hard to believe that it was almost time to go home. The idea should have been comforting. They could get away from King, get back to their lives. But what exactly did that mean? His life before didn’t include her, not in the way it did now. Maybe things really would go back to the way they were?

As if sensing her thoughts, he leaned closer and pulled her against him. “As improbable as it is,” he said, his eyes crinkling at the edges with wonder, “it has happened.”

The way he looked at her, awed and loving, made her heart race. He wasn’t talking about going back in time, or working in a speakeasy. He was talking about her, about how he felt about her. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

He reached out and cupped her cheek. “And I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

They made love slowly, stretching out each moment, each touch, then drifting into the next. Hazy afternoon sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains. Dust motes caught on a warm breeze danced in the air.

He held her a bit more firmly and wondered if he should have told her what he saw at the park. There was no reason to worry her, and doubtless she’d caught on and was trying to spare him the worry.

He hadn’t gotten a good look at the man, or men. There seemed to be more than one, although he couldn’t be sure. Ever since her revelation that King had been having them followed, he’d had the sense they were never alone. Today at the park was the first time he’d actually seen their shadow. Always keeping a discrete distance, but ever-present, the thick man in the black fedora had trailed them through the park. He should have noticed him sooner. Not that there was a bloody thing he could do about it. Four more days, he told himself. Four more days.

Elizabeth pushed herself up and re-settled on top of him, folding her arms over his chest and resting her chin atop her laced hands. “What’s wrong? And don’t nothing me. You were grinding your teeth.”

He thought about putting her off, but she had that look in her eyes. It would be more trouble than it was worth. “We were followed today.”

“I know. Black hat. Built like a fire hydrant.”

Damn her. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Why didn’t you?”

Her Socratic method of arguing was frustrating to say the least. Especially when she had a point. He sighed and pushed his head further into the pillows. “I don’t know.”