“I said I'd be good for it, and I will be.” Her dad gestured extravagantly at her. “With my lovely daughter copiloting my plane with me, we're a dead cert for winning the air race next week. The prize money is as good as in my pocket.”
“It is not,” hissed Connie. She cast a weak, apologetic smile around at the seated men. “We really have to go now. Sorry for any misunderstanding.”
“But I'm winning!” her dad protested as she tried to tug him to his feet.
“Yeah, you can't go yet, West,” said a man whose skinny, supple fingers seemed oddly out of proportion with the rest of his hands. Connie mentally nicknamed him Longfingers. “Have to give us a chance to win back our money.”
“That's only fair,” said another man.
A general rumble of agreement ran around the table. There was an ominous undertone to the sound that made Connie think of a pack of wolves, growling low in their throats as they closed in on their prey.
No matter how infuriatingly impulsive Connie's dad was, at least he wasn't stupid. “Ah, well,” he said, starting to gather bills toward him. “Better call it a night. Sorry, lads.”
Longfingers caught his sleeve. “No. You said you'd play, so you play to the end.”
Connie's hand closed on the pepper spray she always carried in her pocket. It wouldn't be the first time she'd had to use it to buy them a quick escape.
Connie's dad flashed his trademark disarming, charming smile as he brushed off the man's clinging fingers. “I wish I could, my friend, but I daren't cross my daughter here. No man can change her course when she's got the bit between her teeth. Women, eh?”
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the giant man cast a swift, questioning glance at Longfingers. The smaller man jerked his chin in an almost imperceptible nod.
“He's been cheating,” the giant announced. “I saw him. He's got cards up his sleeve.”
“Now, no one likes a poor loser—” Connie's dad started.
A large man to his right grabbed his wrist, twisting it viciously. Connie's dad's protests fell on deaf ears as the thug ripped back his
jacket sleeve.
A card fluttered out, landing softly on the tabletop. The black ace stared up like an accusing eye.
Connie's dad's mouth hung open for a moment. “I honestly don't know how that got there,” he said weakly.
“Cheat!” roared the thug.
“Dad!” yelled Connie.
“Run, Connie!” Her dad ducked the first punch, toppling off his chair. “Run!”
The table overturned as men shot to their feet, shouting and pushing. Cards flurried into the air. Her dad disappeared into the middle of a mob of angry muscle.
Connie took aim and maced the nearest man. He screeched, dropping his cigarette to claw at his eyes. But that still left five, and her action hadn't gone unnoticed.
“Don't get in the way,” growled the giant. “Ain't none of your business.”
Connie tried to get him with her pepper spray, but he was too fast for her. The giant shoved her aside, kicking her feet out from under her with a casual movement. Leaving her sprawled on the ground, he waded into the fight.
Pushing herself up to her hands and knees, Connie saw her dad for moment between the angry, shoving bodies. Most of the men were just taking outraged, imprecise swings at him, but not the giant. He moved with complete control, cutting through the crowd like a shark through water.
Connie's blood ran cold. In a flash, she knew her dad had been set up. And she had a bone-deep certainty that he was in terrible danger.
She desperately cast around for some way to distract the mob. Her eye fell on her dropped pepper spray… and the still-lit cigarette beside it.
I can't believe I'm doing this, but...
Connie grabbed the cigarette and a handful of fallen bills. She'd never wondered how well money would burn, but the answer turned out to be 'surprisingly fast.' Connie yelped, involuntarily dropping the bills as flames licked at her fingers. They landed in a puddle of spilled alcohol and cards.
The result was considerably more impressive than she'd intended.