He raised the poker and brought it down heavily on the door, breaking through the lock after two swings. He glanced back and saw Hope peering around the corner at him as she lay on her belly, her hair spilling wildly around her shoulders, the knife clutched in her hand, her expression livid with excitement.
There was ho doubt about it. If Hope Stillwater lived in his time period, she'd undoubtedly spend her time bungee jumping or climbing harrowing mountain peaks.
Christ, what had he gotten himself into, anyway?
"Somebody has been kind enough to provide us with a distraction,"
he whispered, "but I want you to stay down for now, Hope."
She nodded in agreement and he eased open the door a few inches. The sounds of women shrieking in rage amplified along with increasingly fading grunts of pain. Ryan froze when he saw two men running down the hallway. A quick glance told him it was the tall, blond man who'd stood guard at the bottom of the stairs along with the doorman who wore a black hat. Both of them had pistols drawn as they passed him. Apparently the debacle that was going on next door was more of a concern for the henchmen than Ryan or Hope.
Ryan waved for Hope to come near him. Whatever was going on was a heaven-sent distraction. Just as he felt a tendril of Hope's soft hair brushing his bare waist, however, one of the men bawled over the din.
"I'll shoot your brains out, Molly, and you, too, Nancy! Get off him."
"Go back," Ryan mouthed fiercely to Hope. "Go," he whispered when she hesitated and grabbed his knife with both hands as though she were steeling herself for battle.
"Shoot 'em! Go ahead," Ryan heard Diamond Jack Fletcher roar.
"'Back" Ryan ordered.
A scowl of mixed irritation and uncertainty creased Hope's forehead at Ryan's warning, but something she saw in his eyes must have made her fade back toward a place of safety—in regard to flying bullets, anyway.
No place was safe in this madhouse, at the moment.
Ryan gave a regretful glance to his cut and bruised knuckles before he entered the hallway. He had a quick impression of several women looking up from a pile on the floor just inside the viewing room doorway, their hair wild and tangled, their faces wary and showing clear signs of battle. He saw what appeared to be the bald head of Big Mario beneath the heap. As Ryan silently approached, he saw the behemoth's head move sluggishly and then go still.
He tapped on the blond man's shoulder.
When the man turned in surprise Ryan served him an uppercut to the jaw, immediately following with a left directly to his face. Although the man already was falling, Ryan gave him a forceful shove into the other henchman. The guy with the hat stumbled, losing his balance.
Ryan kicked the blond in the groin and took his gun from him as he doubled over, falling heavily on top of the other man, both of them grunting loudly. By the time the man beneath shoved the deadweight of his coworker off him, Ryan had the pistol trained on him.
"Throw it down or I'll shoot you."
"Ryan, get down!" Hope shrieked from directly behind him.
He glanced around in alarm and saw Diamond Jack standing on the other side of the pile of humanity in the doorway, a snarl of hatred on his face, a bloody hand raised and ready to fire Ryan's gun. Ryan flung his weight backward in the direction of Hope, covering her with his body. They both hit the floor with a crash, Hope unfortunately taking the brunt of his weight. The knife she'd been carrying skittered across the wood floor, but Ryan figured it was better off there than accidentally in his back.
He quickly aimed and fired at Jack. Without bothering to wait and see the result, he transferred his attention to the henchman on the floor, who was in the process of raising his pistol and aiming. Ryan winged him like he had Diamond Jack. The man grunted; the pistol clattered to the floor.
Ryan sprung up and surveyed the area for threat. Both of Jack's guards lay unmoving and there was no sign of Jack. The prostitutes stared at him slack-jawed, their faces pale with shock.
"Let's go," Ryan told Hope tensely once he'd helped her up off the floor. He pulled her with him toward the staircase, pausing to retrieve his knife. His eyes widened in disbelief when he felt her jerking back on his hand, resisting him.
"Hope, get back here," Ryan ordered furiously when she yanked her hand out of his and ran over to the prostitutes.
"Quickly! Diamond Jack will kill you when he recovers," Hope hissed at the stunned women.
"Hope, get your butt over—"
She turned around to face him, her expression anxious and desperate.
"Do you want to just leave them all here to die? What do you think Diamond Jack will do to them? They attacked that man. They helped us escape!"
"We haven't escaped yet," Ryan muttered as he scanned the hallway warily. Was it possible that only these two—the guard at the front of the stairs and the doorman—had been warned of what was occurring upstairs at the Sweet Lash? It seemed too good to be true, but Ryan had to admit the large, interior room that housed the bar and staging areas was quite a distance from the front stairs.
Several of the prostitutes started out of trances of shock and looked into the interior of the viewing room. Ryan glanced around in time to see Mel, the elder of the pair who'd performed the Slip and Whip. Her blonde hair hung askew and her cheeks and mouth were smeared crimson with blood. She steadily regarded first Ryan and then Hope in turn with sharp, brown eyes. Ryan instinctively understood that she was the leader among the women.