MacKenzie's Lady Read Free

Any diversion would be welcome, but the building tension between the fancy Americano and Paco Ramirez— this diversion offered more possibilities than most.
    Holly had no way of knowing exactly what was going on in the minds of the bar's other patrons, but it was obvious that no one was going to try to stop the imminent fight. Common sense told her not to worry about it, to take the stranger's advice and get out of the bar. She didn't like the looks of him any more than of the other man. He could undoubtedly take care of himself. Her conscience rebelled, however.
    She turned back reluctantly, her eyes skimming over his scarred face. He had released the man's arm but, other than that, their positions were unchanged.
    "What about you?"
    His gaze did not flicker away from his opponent. "I'm touched that you care, but I'll be fine. Now get out of here."
    Holly Reynolds had never taken orders well. Her family and any of her friends could have told him that. Unfortunately, none of these people were around to give him this piece of information, though it might have saved him some grief.
    If he had asked her to leave, she might have taken him up on it and ignored her conscience. But he ordered her to leave and she immediately decided that nothing would get her out of that bar until she was sure that he was unhurt. After all, she reasoned, he had come to her rescue. What kind of a person would she be if she left him all alone?
    "I'm not going anywhere until I'm sure you'll be all right." The mulish tone would have warned anyone who knew her.
    "For God's sake, lady, have you got a death wish?"
    She set her teeth. "I'm not going without you. I couldn't live with myself if I did."
    "Oh, great! I don't believe this. You're going to get us both killed." He might have expanded further on the subject but he didn't get a chance. He saw the blow coming, despite trying to watch both the crazy woman he was attempting to help and the man he faced. His left arm came up to block the blow while his right hand shot out to shove the woman farther back, following the motion with an awkwardly angled blow to the other man's stomach.
    A ragged shout of excitement went up from the men in the bar. Only the cantina's owner was in disagreement with the opinion that a good fight was just what was needed to liven up the day.
    For the next few minutes Mac had his hands full just trying to prevent his thick-set opponent from beating his head in. He and Ken were outnumbered, and Ken's prediction of being scraped off the floor might have come true if most of their would-be opponents hadn't gotten sidetracked into personal battles of their own.
    Mac's memories of the fight were stored in brief images: Ken's wild war whoop as he waded into the fray until he and Mac stood back to back, the look of stunned surprise on Paco's square face when Mac's fist connected with his chin, snapping his head back. Without the need for words, he and Ken worked their way slowly toward the door. Mac searched the wild crowd for the woman who had been the cause of all this, and his eyes caught what would remain his favorite image. She stood on a chair near the door, wielding a heavy beer bottle with delicate—if indiscriminate—precision. More than one of the men went home with a headache that night.
    "Are you ready?" Ken's voice was breathless with exertion as he dodged another fist and backed a little closer to the door. Mac disposed of his current opponent with a quick uppercut.
    "Now!"
    The two of them broke for the entry. Mac's longer strides brought him to the door two steps ahead of his friend. The high wail of sirens in the distance added an extra urgency to his steps.
    Holly felt as if she were being swept up by a hurricane. She was standing on a chair, trying to visually sort the twisting mass of humanity into something recognizable. It seemed as if her eyes had just located the tall frame of her rescuer near the center of the room when he came surging toward her. She had a