Edward’s knuckles pricked and stung, but he landed another blow.
“Take that, you little chit!” the brawler snarled.
He barely nicked Edward’s jaw.
“Chit, am I?” Edward’s grin was lopsided. “I own many chits, and I most certainly own you!”
He jabbed at the man’s ribs, and once he heard that rhythmic sound of ribs cracking, he took the blows to this man’s head.
“Knock him out!” Hope screeched from the crowd.
Edward turned his head and smiled at her before he did precisely that.
The hulking man went flying and was sprawled out on the ground.
Edward laughed and then circled the crowd, taking the money from the bets.
“You see! Bigger is not always better!” Edward called out to the throngs of people surrounding him now.
“Oh that’s right,” a small feminine voice said from nearby. “Lie to them.”
How the hell did she get in here?
He parted his way through the crowd to the source of the sound.
There sat the mite, with several sheafs of paper, scribbling on one of them and at an angle so he could not see what it was she doodled.
“Crawled out from under your rock, I see?” he said, taking a seat at her side.
He shooed away his admirers, but called for a drink of Scotch.
“The rock you mean to squish me with? I heard what you call me,” she began in on him, though she kept her eyes to her manic, drawing hand.
“Oh, the ladies are at it again, huh? They can’t find a more suitable subject than me to spread lies about?”
“No. They can’t seem to stop spotting you, crawling out of your own hidey holes where the whores reside.” She chuckled to herself. “I do hope for your sake their lipstick helps the blows to glide off your chest. The last time I checked, they did use a rather greasy type.” She touched her own mouth, and his eyes traveled to those gorgeous, plump lips.